Twisted
by Paradox 2.0
Summary: 25 year old art student Ichigo Kurosaki has led a fairly mundane life. When the leaders of two notorious gangs begin fighting for possession of the sweet berry, things can get a little... twisted. YAOI- GrimmShiroIchi
1. Sticks and Stones

**Hello hello~! This is a birthday present for my dear friend, Deranged and Morbid. I've also been wanting to do something like this for a while, so when this little opportunity popped up, who was I to turn down the enticing offer?**

**Enjoy~**

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><p><strong>WARNING: Rated M for sexual situations in later chapters, including a shit ton of YAOI, BONDAGE, DOUBLE PENETRATION, THREESOMES, and whatever else my messed up perverted mind can cook up. Also rated M for language. There's gonna be a fair dosage of stupidity, and probably some angst in later chapters. <strong>

**DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters from the anime/manga, Bleach. And that fact makes me cry. Quite regularly. **

**Full summary: **

**25 year old art student Ichigo Kurosaki has led a fairly mundane life- he always got good grades, was in excellent shape, had a father and two sisters, and a job at a local club. When the leaders of two notorious gangs, The Hollows and The Espada, begin fighting for possession of the sweet berry, things can get a little… twisted.**

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><p>Innocence,<br>sunk the flow and drowned in covers,  
>send for all your absent lover's things.<p>

Sheepish wolves,  
>looking lived in eating buttons,<br>wink, just don't put your teeth on me.

Accidents,  
>let the evening in the backdoor,<br>filled the room ceiling to the floor.

Beat backbones.  
>Grazed the poem and made it strange,<br>I wasn't born to be a skeleton.

Go on,  
>grab your hat and fetch a camera.<br>Go on, film the world before it happens.

Jealous orchard,  
>the sky is falling off the ceiling<br>while I'm tucking fibs into a cookie jar.

Bombed reverie,  
>its useless searching in the cupboards<br>when everything you have is on your back.

-"She's a Handsome Woman" by Panic! At The Disco—

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><p><strong>Twisted<strong>

**Chapter One:**

**Sticks and Stones**

A demonic laugh pierced the night, sending even the worst nighttime beasts hiding in their holes. It was the laugh of a murderer. A psycho. A predator of the worst kind.

"Mah mah, quite tha bark ya got there," Shiro purred, his distorted voice dancing along the gang member's skin like a sharpened blade. He smirked, his gold eyes glinting in the shitty lighting of the lone street light at the mouth of the ally. He inhaled slowly, his blue stained tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

He loved the smell of fear. And tinged with the scent of blood as it was, it made for quite the arousing taste.

Shiro dug the tip of his blade into the soft skin just under the man's jaw, slowly tracing a path down his neck, stopping just above his bobbing Adam's apple, entranced with the way the crimson liquid slid down the skin.

He couldn't trap the chuckle that slid past his pale lips, his grin one of sheer chaos. "Let's see jus' how high we can get ya ta sing, ne?"

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><p>Ichigo POV<p>

One of these days, he was seriously going to throw his alarm out the window.

Ichigo Kurosaki sighed, a tanned hand shooting out of the mass of blankets, hitting the snooze button with startling accuracy. A soft groan bubbled from the sheets at the stop of the incessant beeping before they slowly started to move. Ichigo planted his feet and hands on the mattress, stretching his lithe form like a cat would, waking from a long nap in the sun.

He grumbled slightly, pulling his half naked form into a sitting position, the dark blue silk sheets pooling in his lap. Scratching absently at his torso, he peered up at the wall behind his bed, covered in half completed sketches and abstract paintings, the dominant one stretching nearly to the ceiling from just above his headboard. The silk screened skull was surrounded by randomly colored flames, a thin black border running around one set of blue flames, a textured layer of red on top of that, and multiple layers of other colors on top of that.

He had been inclined to put it there when he had bought the loft, though he wasn't sure why. When his best friend Shinji Hirako had seen it, he had started babbling about how much it resembled the sign of the Hollows, an infamous street gang. Ichigo had had no idea at the time that he was making it, just knowing that it completed the room, no matter how much it resembled the gang sign.

Peering at the clock through safety cone orange hair, Ichigo scowled as 7:00 pm glared up at him, the red letters blinking mockingly at him. Ichigo groggily climbed out of bed, stumbling slightly before walking down the 3 steps that led to the main platform, the honey hued hardwood cool beneath his sleep warmed feet. The loft was rather large; a separate platform for the bedroom and bathroom about half the size of the main level that contained the kitchen and studio. The wall facing east was covered in windows, tan blinds covering the first two levels, but the third one was left open, allowing the bright city lights to shine through at night and the sun in the morning. The walls were exposed brick, but he had covered them in posters and paintings, both his and purchased ones.

Comfy leather sofas and chairs sat in the middle of the studio, surrounded by easels and canvases, boxes of paints and brushes, sketchpads and canvases. Some of the canvases had work on them, others were only half done, while the ones piled on the floor were all completely clean, waiting for him to pick them up and breathe life into them.

Not that he'd been drawing or painting all that much lately. He had kind of lost his muse for the time being, and he knew that he needed to get it back if he wanted to get right back into school once summer rolled to an end.

Padding into the kitchen, Ichigo reached into a cupboard, pulling out a bowl for cereal and setting it on the counter before walking over to the taller cupboard, grabbing the first box his fingers touched.

After scarfing down a bowl of half stale cereal and grabbing a quick shower, he wandered out into his room, throwing open the closet and glaring at the wall of colors that stared him down. He pulled out the mandatory white dress shirt and black waistcoat then ambled over to the dresser situated by the closet, pulling out a pair of purple skinny jeans and a black studded belt.

After pulling on the constricting material of the jeans and tucking the bottom of the dress shirt into the waist of his jeans, Ichigo walked back into his bathroom, scowling at his reflection in the mirror. Stubborn brown eyes glared back at him, the color of caramel swirled with melting chocolate. His orange hair fell in unruly locks, brushing just above his shoulders. A light dusting of freckles colored the skin across his cheeks and nose, mainly visible on his sun kissed skin on the rare occasion that he blushed.

It was his hair that really bugged him though.

He'd been picked on because of it since as long as he could remember. He could still remember the kids at school calling him names, pulling at it, throwing things at him, some even going so far as to cut it. Without even a reason, the other kids had immediately written him off as an attention getter simply because he had a different colored hair. And it had only gotten worse.

In junior high, the kids had kicked it up a notch, slamming him into lockers to try and be rid of the "faggot with a dye job." That was where he had met Shinji. They had both been thrown into the same bathroom stall after yet another brutal beating. Unlike him though, Shinji had never been afraid to stand up to them.

Shinji had been picked on for years before hand, just like him, only it had started out with the accusations of being gay. But Shinji had never denied them because he always knew it to be true. He had found from a young age that he had no interest in girls, only ever having been even remotely attracted to the other boys on the playground, and that attraction had only grown over time.

Not to mention, he had always had impeccable fashion sense. He had actually annoyed his mother on several occasions when he had refused to leave without having on a hat that complemented his outfit perfectly, or the right pair of shoes.

The beatings only increased the older he got, but by the time he was 13, he had had enough.

He started taking tae kwon do classes, quickly accelerating through the belts. And as he got stronger, he got taller. He filled out, his long limbs quickly becoming covered in lean muscle. But the teasing still didn't stop. It only got worse, accusations of being gay now an everyday thing, along with the relentless teasing of his hair. The physical beatings got worse too. He wasn't the only one getting stronger after all. But he started doing something he could never have done before.

He fought back.

He put up a tougher front at school than he would normally. Rarely ever smiling, save for when he was with his friends or at home, with his mom. He had been a little kid forced to grow up too fast, simply because he got what he believed to be the tail end of genetics. All because of his stupid fucking hair, he had to learn to keep his distance from people.

All because of his fucking hair, his mother was ripped from his grasp in a flurry of screeching breaks and the sickening crunch of bone meeting metal.

"_Mommy, hurry up! We're going to be late!" a 14 year old Ichigo called back to his mother, the only woman he felt safe around other than his friend, Orihime. He wouldn't be caught dead calling his mom 'mommy' in front of anyone, but when it was just them, he couldn't help becoming a bit of a kid. _

_A soft laugh tinkled behind him, like rain chiming against the glass of a window. Light, airy, carefree. His mother had always been like that, with brilliant orange hair that dropped to her waist and the warmest brown eyes in all of Karakura. _

_On her, Ichigo thought, the orange hair looked like liquid sunlight, beautiful and elegant. Completely different than how it looked on him. _

"_I'm coming, my protector," she calls to him, running slightly to catch up to him. Masaki Kurosaki had always called him that, her protector. It was the other meaning of his name, the one protector. While most people recognized its more common meaning of 'strawberry,' his mother had always seen him as her savior, her protector. _

_But he couldn't protect her from the hate that people had for him. _

_Even though he was just in junior high, his last year at last, many high schoolers had a harsh hatred towards him. Some more than others. _

_One of those high schoolers happened to be named Luppi. And Luppi just happened to have a car. _

"_Oi, faggot!"_

_The feminine voice was nearly drowned out by his mothers cry as she hurriedly pushed him out of the way, her fingers just leaving his shoulders a mere second before the truck hit her full on, sending her careening down the street in a whirlwind of blood and silent screams. _

_Ichigo caught himself just before he hit the pavement of the street, his head spinning. He could do nothing but stare at the gray stone beneath him, his breath coming in harsh pants, fading into the background along with the screams of pedestrians rushing to the woman crumpled in the middle of the street. _

_Ichigo dazedly pushed himself off the pavement, stumbling blindly to where his mother laid on the unforgiving ground. The concrete had turned a dark grey, damp with the light drizzle of rain and the blood quickly blooming from her head._

_Too quickly. _

"_M-mom?" he breathed, staring down at his mother. His knees gave out from beneath him, his brain barely registering the sharp pain of his kneecaps meeting the pavement. _

"_Mommy? Mommy, say something…" He clutched at her hand, her arm, her chest, trying desperately to find any kind of movement._

_But there was none. _

_He stared down at her body through his blurry eyes, not feeling the hot streams of tears running down his face, dripping onto her prone body. He didn't feel it when the paramedics came and pulled the body of his mother onto a stretcher. He didn't feel it when he was seated onto a leather bench in the back of an ambulance. Didn't feel it when it sped off down the street toward the hospital. Didn't feel it when a blanket was wrapped around his shoulders and a paramedic started whispering apologies to him. _

_Somewhere deep inside of him, he knew that there was nothing he could have done to save her. _

_Then again, he had also thought that his mother would always be there for him. Had always thought that she would be there to hug away his pain, to whisper words of happiness and comfort to him when he needed it._

_Time had seemed to stop, nothing but the sound of his pounding heart in his ears offering him a mock sense of security that he was still alive. _

_But Ichigo was positive that the rest of him was dead. _

_He was positive that the rest of him had died along with his mother. _

_He would learn that Luppi had been drunk at the time, and that he had ended up driving into a ditch and dying on impact. _

_But none of that mattered. _

_Because he would never get to see his mother again. _

_The one person that had loved him without question was gone. _

The distant sound of a door opening brought him back to the present. Turning just in time, Ichigo smiled as his best friend of nearly 12 years come sauntering into his bathroom. Letting out a sing-song _knock-knock,_ his piano toothed grin on full display as he sidled up next to Ichigo, Shinji Hirako kissed him on his cheek before turning to grin at the mirror.

"Mah mah," he sighs, propping his arm on Ichigo's shoulder, grinning at their reflection in the mirror. "Don't I look positively _ravishing _tonight?"

Rolling his eyes, Ichigo runs a hand through his obnoxious hair, unable to help a rare grin from stretching across his face. "Sure Shin, ya look amazing."

"Damn straight I do." He grins wider, tilting his head to the side. Clad in a skintight pair of red skinnies and a pair of black converse, Shinji had stuck with the mandatory dress shirt and waistcoat, but swapped them out with a black shirt and silver waistcoat, topping it with a black and white stripped newsboy hat. "It's you that needs to finish getting dressed."

"Yeah, yeah," Ichigo grumbles, shrugging Shinji's arm off before turning on his heel and trudging back into his room, Shinji hot on his heels.

Shinji plopped down on his messy bed, launching into a long string of babbles that Ichigo mostly tuned out, nodding and "mmhmm"-ing when needed as he pulls on his belt and waistcoat, slipping his feet into a pair of lime green Converse high-tops.

Shinji slides off the bed to throw a leather cuff at him before cocking a hip, appraising his best friend's outfit as Ichigo rolls up the sleeves to his elbows, slipping on the cuff.

A grin stretches across Shinji's face as he saunters up to Ichigo, his hand on his hip. "You're getting laid."

Ichigo sputters, his hands dropping to his sides. "Shin!"

"Some poor, unsuspecting guy-"

"Shinji!"

"-is going to have his mind blown tonight."

Groaning, Ichigo drops his face into his hands, Shinji cackling like a madman at his best friend's obvious discomfort.

"Ichi, when are you gonna admit to yourself that you're hot? 'Cause you are! Any guy should be biting at the bit to sink their teeth into you." With a smirk, Shinji flips his hair over his shoulder. "It's a wonder that, even with all of my help, you're still a virgin."

"Shin," Ichigo groans, his head falling back in his fruitless attempt to hide the light blush coloring his cheeks from his friend. "You know I don't have time for a relationship. I have work, school, it just doesn't fit in. And it's not that imp-Hey! Stop that!"

Ichigo scowls at his friend, having noticed Shinji mouthing the words as he was saying them.

"Yeah, yeah, save it Ichi. We all know you're afraid to do anything after Shuuhei," Shinji said, giving the orangette a bored look. "Ichi, the man was a jackass at heart. There's nothing you could have done to keep that relationship together. Now, that being said, do I wish that I could cut off his balls then force them down his neck? Yes, absolutely."

Shinji puts his hands on his hips, giving his friend a hard look. "Ya need to move on. Like, now. There are a bunch hot guys at the club." Shinji sighs happily, flipping his hair over his shoulder as he stares off into space, obviously off somewhere else. "None like my sexy as sin Nnoitra, with that devilish tongue that can reach anywhere, those long, long fingers that feel so good when they're sli-"

Ichigo slaps a hand over Shinji's mouth, his cheeks stained a deep red. "I have no desire whatsoever to hear the end of that sentence," he says lowly, scowling at his friend. "Now let's go or we're gonna be late for work."

Shinji grins, cocking his head to the side, watching as his friend turns and stalks toward the front door. "You really need to stop blushing! Someone's gonna try and lick it off one day and I won't be there to stop them!" Shinji calls, his only answer the slamming of the front door.

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><p>They could feel more than hear the music from the club when they pulled up in the employee parking lot, alongside a Porsche, a Maserati, and a Corvette.<p>

Yeah, this wasn't some lame ass club for the poor people wanting to have a good time. This was an upscale, kick ass, show no weakness, best on the market drugs and booze club.

Gang territory.

Territory for the two biggest gangs in the city: The Hollows and The Espada. The two biggest rivals in Japan.

Fights were common on the streets, but were one to start up here, it would be total annihilation on both sides. All employees had to be completely unaffiliated with anything having to do with any gang to avoid favoritism. Any employees who were thought to go against that rule would be found the next day, badly beaten or dead. But sometimes they got lucky. Every once and a while, a gang would take pity on them and take them in as servants or sex slaves.

It was a brutal business; one that Ichigo had no desire to be a part of.

But hey-

Fate's a bitch.

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><p>Shiro POV-<p>

"Piss off, ya whore."

Shirosaki Ogichi scowled at the busty strawberry blond that had chosen to attach herself to his arm, practically purring. Definitely high on something. Judging by the way she was grinding against him, probably Ecstasy.

The woman just giggled and leaned in closer, trying to land a sloppy kiss on his mouth. Shiro sighed and turned towards her, putting a finger on her forehead and pushing back. The woman leaned back, stumbling slightly. "I'm sorry," Shirosaki sneered. "Tha' was insensitive. I asked ya ta stop bein' so stupid withou' thinkin' abou' how incredibly difficult tha' would be for ya'," he said, his distorted voice tinkling like broken glass.

The woman, Rangiku, the woman had giggled, blinked up at him, her lips pushing into a pout. "C'mon, please?" The woman smiled proactively, leaning her amble bosom against his chest. "I promise to make it worth your while."

Shirosaki growled in disgust, his hand itching for the 9mm glock in his back pocket. The woman purred, looking up at him through her lashes, clearly not getting the hint that he was not interested.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Shiro ran the tip of his blue stained tongue over his ashen lips, the tip of a sharpened canine peeking out. "Listen 'ere, E slut," Shiro practically purrs, his distorted voice causing those unfortunate enough to hear the contempt in his voice to shiver.

" Tha' only thin' I want ta do with your wasted ass is cut it up an' throw it in tha' back a' some shitty car. Understan', _sweet'art?" _Shiro drawls, his voice a step away from a growl, the woman's face twisting in confusion, her wasted brain having trouble sorting through so many words.

"Now fuck off," he sneers, shaking the woman off his arm and stepping into the swarm of bodies dancing and grinding on the dance floor. Kami, women like her just pissed him the hell off. Maybe that's why he preferred men over women. They just threw their bodies around, looking for some disgusting man to run their grubby paws all over their bodies.

Shirosaki sighed, running his inverted gold on black eyes over the crowd, looking for anything that could attract his attention. Hopefully he'd find a good dance partner, someone who knew what to do with their hips. No need to let the whore ruin his night.

But it was all just the same to him. The same men and woman crowded together, sweating and panting, high on something or other, just looking for their next fix of whatever it is their bodies craved tonight. They were just mindless bodies grinding against one another to the beat of the music, the glass lit floor vibrating to the beat, the lights reflecting off of the steel accents. The VIP sections were off to either side of the dance floor, the black furniture and silver tables stationed behind water filled floor to ceiling tanks, giving the dancers below a distorted view of the more important people.

Between the VIP sections was the bar, a huge steel backdrop the base for it, with black cupboards above and below a monstrous row of shelves, covered in every type of booze imaginable. And not the low quality, $10 bottle of liquor you can buy at your local grocery store. Of course not. This was high quality shit, the only kind that either of these gangs would tolerate. The bar was long, stainless steel topped with black and grey granite. And behind that bar was the real reason so many people came to this club.

The bartenders.

Every night there was a group of about four or five tenders that would be there all night, save for the time between midnight and one in the morning. They would come dressed in a dress shirt and waistcoat, and their choice of pants and shoes. They could wear hats and makeup, but they had to have the mandatory shirt and waistcoat on.

Then, at midnight, they'd send out one last wave of drinks and move into one of the back rooms. They'd change into all black outfits, each of them the same, put on wigs, and cover their faces with masquerade masks. They were allowed to choose the masks, but it had to cover at least their eyes. Half of them would move out onto the dance floor, while the other half disappeared into the VIP rooms in the back.

The half that went to the dance floor would be allowed to dance or DJ for the hour, while the ones that went to the back would either bartend or, Shiro's favorite, choose one person to personally entertain however they saw fit.

But there was one overlying rule for the bartenders. Absolutely no one could figure out who you were.

Finding nothing of interest on the floor, Shiro started to move over to the bar. If he couldn't find someone to keep him company on the dance floor, then he could at least strike up a conversation with one of the bartenders. They were trained for that type of work anyway- both bartending and entertaining the customers.

And if you were lucky, you'd be graced with the service of a Vastro Lorde- one of the club's best bartenders. These guys were legends, known throughout the city, whether you were in a gang or not. They knew every drink in the book, and even those that weren't. And they could entertain even the pickiest of people. They were sexy and sleek, and reserved for people high up in gangs or those who had loads of money and power.

But nobody knew who exactly they were. The only way you could tell if they were one or not was by the fact that they all wore a mask. The most there was ever rumored to be was two, but one of them had recently disappeared- rumored that they were taken by one of the gangs, though both of them strongly denied any connection to the missing Lorde.

That left only one.

Shiro slid into one of the stools behind the bar, running a black nailed hand through his ashen white locks, his lips pursed as he scanned over the workers behind the bar. A blond haired man with a piano toothed grin, a tall, busty woman with sea green hair and a pink birthmark over her nose, a midget with black hair and violet eyes, and a tall man with bright orange hair.

Shiro blinked, biting the silver ring on his lip as he slowly dragged his eyes over the toned body, watching his muscles flex as the young man threw a bottle in the air and caught it by the neck, pouring a splash of the vodka into the glass he was holding. Setting it on the countertop and grabbing another bottle in the same motion, his limbs moved like liquid as he quickly finished fixing that drink and passing it to a man who passed him a rather thick wad of yen, the man's number obviously scribbled onto a piece of paper on top of the pile.

The orangette didn't miss a beat, tucking it in his pocket without a second glance and pouring a line of 5 shots, not a single drop hitting the counter.

It was a rather arousing sight.

Shiro smirked, looking rather smug with himself as he let out a sharp whistle to draw the bartender's attention, slowly dragging his eyes over the man's ass. _I'd love to see how those hips moved on the dance floor, _Shiro thought to himself, licking his lips as he brought his eyes back to the man's head as his face was finally revealed to him.

Shiro's jaw nearly hit the floor.

The man's face was covered in a mask.

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><p>Grimmjow POV<p>

He had to have him.

The busty strawberry blonde that had been seated on his lap nearly fell to the floor when Grimmjow Jeagerjaques stood up abruptly, going from purring dirty things in her ear to nearly launching out of his seat in his need to get to the orangette.

Grimmjow was half way down the short set of stairs when the man turned around, revealing his face to the blue haired man.

_Holy shit…_

All coherent thought flew out the window at the sight of the mask on the man's face. Covering the man's eyes and most of the left side of the man's face, the mask was the white of bone. Several crimson stripes tore across the smooth surface of the mask, looking like spilled blood. The bottom of the mask was carved to look like teeth, transforming half of the man's mouth into a deranged grin that looked like it would start spewing out maniacal laughter at any second.

He was the last Vastro Lorde.

The man's tangerine orange hair formed a halo of fire around the mask, the black and white of the man's shirt only further drawing attention to the vibrant colors on the man's head.

_And those legs, _miles long and covered in tight purple denim. Grimmjow was half hard just imagining what it would feel like to have them wrapped around his waist, to have those long fingers tangled in his hair as his masked face let out scream after scream of pleasure.

Grimmjow let out a growl, his teeth bared in a predatory grin, his body carried with an almost feline grace as he stalked toward the bartender, determined to make the man his.

Grimmjow cut his way through the crowd, his imposing demeanor causing the people to part almost on their own accord, his menacing growling adding to their discomfort.

Grimmjow slid along the side of the bar, slipping onto one of the barstools, his 6'2" frame allowing his feet to touch the floor, even when sitting on one of the tall stools. Running a large hand through his baby blue hair, which he's forced to point out is 100% _natural _on several occasions, Grimmjow leans forward, letting out a quick whistle to grab the man's attention.

Molten brown eyes turn from a patron across the bar to his oceanic blue ones, Grimmjow's ego swelling when the young man's jaw noticeably slackens.

Oh yes. This would be a very fun game.

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><p>Ichigo POV<p>

Shinji was right. The club was teeming with sexy men.

He had nearly stopped in his tracks at the sight of the albino perched on a barstool, his ashen skin stretched over a lithe, 6' frame, seemingly glowing under the bright lights of the bar, pure white spikes piled in an untamable mass on his head. A red graphic tee and black, unbuttoned waistcoat was pulled over a toned chest, the tightest leather pants Ichigo had ever seen wrapped around legs that stretched on for miles.

And when those eyes had locked with his- _Kami, he had nearly melted. _Golden sunlight shaped into pools resting atop obsidian skies, surrounded by the palest moonlight.

And now here he was, staring at yet another Adonis, cerulean eyes boring into his, tanned skin pulled back in a sharp toothed grin that spelled trouble.

With a promise.

Sky blue hair the color of shallow ocean waters was styled into a look of tamed chaos, a few daring locks falling into the strangers eyes. Teal markings were tattooed below the man's eyes, giving him an almost feline appearance. A skintight white tee was pasted onto a clearly defined chest, the fabric clinging to the rocklike muscles for dear life. Suspenders stretched from the waist of the man's loose, dark, acid-washed jeans, over his shoulders, a leather jacket and black fedora polishing off the old school look.

Ichigo fought the urge to check for a nosebleed.

"What can I get for you?" Ichigo asked, leaning over the bar to hear the man's answer. _Just stay calm, Ichigo. It's just a guy. Only 5 more minutes and you can disappear again. Just 5 more minutes, just five more- Kami, what is that delicious SCENT? _

Ichigo fought the urge to audibly purr when the man's scent reached his nose, the smell of rain and peppermint mixed with an unnamable musk assaulting his senses.

"Gimme somethin' strong," the man said, his voice going straight to Ichigo's dick. Deep and gravelly, it sent heat racing through Ichigo's body. Ichigo leaned back and walked to the back wall on shaky legs, grabbing a bottle of scotch and pouring a glass, turning back to the man and setting it in front of him, his eyes flicking up to the man's in the process, his breath lodging in his throat.

_Kami, those eyes are gorgeous. Like liquid sapphires. I wonder what it would be like to have those eyes all over me, to have that sinful tongue on my own, those sharp teeth nipping at my lips. To have those long fingers, on my skin, moving lower, pushing deeper into me, until- _

Ichigo quickly stopped that sentence before it had a chance to finish, looking away, hoping against hope that the man didn't notice the blush he was sure to have on his cheeks.

* * *

><p>Grimmjow POV-<p>

Kami on Earth, this man was going to be the death of him.

He wanted to lick that delicious blush right off of his cheeks, wanted to rip that blasted mask off of the Vastro Lorde's face and suck out his soul. He wanted to devour him.

A feral smirk pulled at his lips, displaying sharp canines. Ichigo started at the sight of them, and Grimmjow's libido flared when a tongue peeked out to wet those pouty lips, a flash of silver reflecting in the bar lights.

This kid had a tongue ring too?

"The name's Grimmjow Jeagerjaques," Grimmjow purred, dragging his eyes over the bartender's form. "Remember it, cause you'll be screamin' it soon enough."

The barkeeper swallowed noticeably, the blush deepening on his cheeks. He nodded once and leaned away, hurrying to the other side of the bar.

Grimmjow's eyes followed his ass the entire way there.

* * *

><p>Shiro POV<p>

Shiro was going to make this man scream his name so loud he'd forget his own.

"W-what can I get you?" the bartender asked, his eyes looking anywhere but at Shiro's.

Shiro chuckled, placing a black nailed finger beneath the young man's chin, tilting his face up to his. "Nervous?" Shiro purred, delighting in the shiver that ran down the younger man's body, his eyes fluttering.

The young man stuttered, at a loss for words, that breathtaking face a mere breathe away from his. Shiro's eyes slowly dragged over his face, drinking in the delicious blush on the man's cheeks, half hidden by that damned mask. He had to refrain himself from licking those pouty lips mere inches away from his, especially when the man's mouth opened a bit, the silver of a tongue ring flashing at him.

"Mah mah, ain't you positively _mouthwaterin'," _Shiro purred, laughter dancing in his eyes as the man could only stare, at a loss for words. "The name's Shirosaki, bu' anyone with lips like yers can call me Shiro."

The bartender blushed deeper, pulling his lower lip between his teeth, managing to break his eyes away from Shiro's intoxicating gaze.

"Come now, don' be rude," Shiro purred, playfully leaning closer. Flicking his tongue against the shell of the bartender's ear, his libido flared at the breathy moan the man lets out. "When someone tells you their name, ya' should tell 'em yers."

The man jumps when his watch beeps incessantly at him, signaling midnight. Shirosaki sighs, letting the man go and leaning back in his stool, giving the man a perverted smirk as he drags his eyes over the lithe body, watching as the blushing orangette scrambles into the backroom to get changed.

The smirk on the albino's face grows as thoughts of the man undressing for him fill his mind, half hard at the thought of pulling the man into a VIP room and having the orangette do just that. Yes, the man would be his.

That much Shirosaki was certain of.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Wooh! 15 pages and 5,893 words. Not bad to start, ne? <strong>**Reviews feed my plot bunnies, so please review!**

**Seriously. Those things get terrifying when they're hungry. O.o**

**Ja ne~**


	2. Put on a Show

**Let me start out by saying, calm your pants! I am thrilled with how well the first chapter was received! After just a few hours I had like 13 notifications on Twisted and I've been getting more each hour. My plot bunnies ate well, my dears, and I can't thank you enough for that.  
>I had so much fun with the first chapter, and this chapter was no different. Hooray for Shiro being his perverted self~!<strong>

**Enjoy~**

**Review responses~**

**Deranged and Morbid: I'm so glad you like it! I had debated taking another day or two to go over it and review, but ultimately decided against it. I can tell that you're not upset in the least that I didn't take more time. ;3 **

**vivaciousRingo: Who indeed. *dramatic wink* Poor, poor Ichi. I almost feel bad for him, having those two delicious men fawning over him. But then I remember that he has two delicious men fawning over him and any feeling of pity somehow disappears. XD**

**Hollow Ichigo-Ichigo: Ohonhonhon~ :3 We shall see, my dear, we shall see. **

**Strawberry-shiro: Thank you so much! You have no idea how warm and fuzzy that makes me feel, especially with the caliber of writers so high. **

**yukirain: Thank you very, very much! :D I'm so glad that I didn't make you think. And yes, it does tie in later with the story, while at the same time showing that Shiro isn't just a tease. **

**Ria: XD Amen sister (? Guessing you're a girl. C;). **

**BruceLeeFanatic: Glad I reeled you in, especially seeing as I suck at summaries. XD**

**Misc. Ink: Calm, child. C: your questions shall be answered. Unlike most times, I actually have a plan for what I'm doing. And yes, I love a good love triangle as well. **

**The weasel is MINE XP: XD thanks bro. My plot bunnies love the extra food. P: They gettin' fat. **

**And a thanks to everyone else that reviewed. :D I love getting them, no matter how short they are. **

**WARNING: Rated M for sexual situations in later chapters, including a shit ton of YAOI, BONDAGE, DOUBLE PENETRATION, THREESOMES, and whatever else my messed up perverted mind can cook up. Also rated M for language. There's gonna be a fair dosage of stupidity, and probably some angst in later chapters. **

**DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters from the anime/manga Bleach. No matter how much I wish for that to not be true, it is probably for the best, seeing as I would turn it into full out yaoi all the fucking time. ((No pun intended ;3)) **

**This chapter has been betad by the lovely ~purestrawberryinsanity  
>Love you girl C;<strong>

* * *

><p>"No" is a dirty word,<br>Never gonna say it first,  
>"No" is just a thought that never crosses my mind.<br>Maybe in the parking lot  
>Better bring your friend along<br>Better off together than just one at a time.

S is for the simple need.  
>E is for the ecstasy.<br>X is just to mark the spot  
>'Cause that's the one you really want.<br>Sex is always the answer, it's never a question  
>Cause the answer's yes, oh the answer's yes<br>Not just a suggestion, if you ask the question,  
>then it's always yes. Yeah!<p>

I'm loving what you wanna wear,  
>I wonder what's up under there,<br>Wonder if I'll ever have it under my tongue  
>I'd love to try and set you free,<br>All of you all over me,  
>Hearin' the sound you make the second you're done.<p>

S is for the simple need.  
>E is for the ecstasy.<br>X is just to mark the spot  
>'Cause that's the one you really want.<br>Sex is always the answer, it's never a question  
>'Cause the answer's yes, oh the answer's yes<br>Not just a suggestion, if you ask the question,  
>Then it's always yes. Yeah!<p>

-"S.E.X." by Nickleback-

* * *

><p><strong>Twisted<strong>

**Chapter 2:**

**Put on a Show**

* * *

><p>Ichigo POV<p>

Ichigo was hardly through the door when he was attacked by a ball of tan skin and blond hair.

"Shinji!" Ichigo growled, glaring up at his best friend, the excited blonde grinning down at him. The force of the surprise attack had tackled him to the ground, and Ichigo could practically smell the blonde's need for details oozing off of him.

"Spill, now! What the hell were you doing with the two second in commands of the biggest gangs in Japan?" Shinji gasped, noticing the blush on his best friend's cheeks.

"Were you… were you _flirting _with them?" Shinji squealed like a middle school girl, practically bouncing in place.

Ichigo groaned, letting his head fall back against the tile floor with a thud, closing his eyes. "Shin-"

"I told you you were gonna get laid! But by _them-"_

"Shin-"

"I mean, I can see why you'd choose them- tall, dark, sexy-"

"Shinji-"

"And to go with both of them! I mean, Ichi, take it slower than that. You haven't slept with anyone in nearly-"

"Shinji!" Ichigo practically had to yell to be heard over his friend's babbling. Shinji stopped and peered down at him.

"Ichigo, what are you doing lying down? We have to get changed," Shinji said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Standing up to his full height, Shinji held a hand out to his friend, pulling him off the floor.

Ichigo only scowled at him, dusting off his jeans before stalking towards the locker room in the back half of the employee lounge. Shinji, following behind him like a puppy, resumed his nonsensical babbling about how he knew that his fashion advice would pay off and that Ichigo really needed to flaunt his ass more often if this is what happened.

Ichigo mostly tunes him out, opening his locker and pulling out the black skinnies, converse, and long-sleeved shirt that everyone was required to wear. Slipping off his waistcoat and shirt, he was forced to acknowledge Shinji when the blond pins him against the wall of lockers, his friend's steely brown eyes boring into his.

"Ichi, are you even listening to me?" he asks, cocking a hip, scowling.

Ichigo scowled back. "Shin, we need to get changed. We have 5 minutes until we need to be out there and-"

"Kurosaki Ichigo?" a playful voice calls out, accompanied by the distinct clicking of wooden clogs on tile.

Ichigo gave his friend a sharp look and shakes him off, pulling on the tight black shirt as he walks around the line of lockers, revealing his boss.

"Sorry Kisuke, I was talking with'"

"Yes, yes, that's fine," the man says, flicking open a fan to hide his creepy grin, his green eyes seemingly glowing from beneath his blond bangs. "It would appear that you have attracted a good deal of attention tonight, is that correct?" the man drawls, taking slow steps toward him.

Ichigo fights back the blush he can feel heating his neck, just the thought of the two men causing his blood to flow the wrong way. "Er, y-yes, but that's to be expected, right?"

"Yes, of course!" the man says in his sing-song voice, clipping his fan shut, revealing a grin that rivaled that of the Cheshire cat.

"But tonight you have attracted the attention of two very important men, a certain Jeagerjaques-sama and Shirosaki-sama," the man explained, pushing a black bag with what appeared to be clothing in it at Ichigo. "These two men are quite high in gang business, and they-"the blond haired man turned in a billow of green robes, peering back at him from under the brim of his green-striped bucket hat. "-have personally requested that _you_ entertain them. You have two hours."

Ichigo could only stare at the man as he walked toward his office, his jaw brushing the floor.

"Oh, and Kurosaki-san," Kisuke chimed, peering back at him from his office door, his green eyes glinting with an unspoken threat. "I do hope that you do not disappoint them. It would be disastrous for certain people were we to lose their business."

The office door closed with a soft click, the silence in the room deafening to the orangette, the eyes of the other employees glued to the back of his head.

Finally, Shinji broke the silence, clearing his throat and cocking a hip, grinning at Ichigo. "Really Ichigo, I let you loose for one night and within two hours you have two very important gang members wrapped around your little finger. Or in this case-" Shinji chuckled, sitting on the bench and inspecting his nails- "wrapped around your ass."

Ichigo groaned, angrily pulling off his mask and stalking back to his locker, dropping it on the leather bench that runs the length of the lockers. A woman with sea green hair and a tall, busty figure walks up to him, her steps smooth and confident even in sky high heels.

"Ichi?" the woman grins slyly, sliding onto the bench next to Shinji. "You haven't mentioned any _men _in your life." Nelliel grins, leaning forward. She had already changed into the mandatory clothing, the tight black fabric clinging to her like a second skin, her sea foam hair pulled back into a tight bun.

"That's because up until about fifteen minutes ago, I didn't even have one man in my life, now I suddenly have two." Ichigo groans, leaning his head against the cool metal of his locker, peering down into the bag. His eyes grow wide, seeing a pair of skintight black leather pants, a diamond stud tongue ring, a black velvet collar, and a shredded up black tank top that showed more than it covered.

"Fucking hell," Ichigo mumbled, his voice lost between Shinji and Nelliel's babbling and the sudden commotion of everyone scrambling to get their wigs on when the alarm on the wall beeped once, signaling the minute they had left to get ready.

Bouncing up from the bench, Shinji put a long, slim finger under Ichigo's chin, tilting his head back. "You listen here Ichigo," he said sternly, staring into his friend's eyes. "You strut your tight little ass into that room and wow those motherfuckers. You hear me?"

Ichigo blinked at the serious look on his best friend's face, nodding blindly.

Shinji grinned and pecked him quickly on the lips before flitting away to put on a mask and wig, having changed while their boss was talking to Ichigo.

A few seconds later the door to the lounge swung shut with a definite yet soft bang, leaving Ichigo alone with his thoughts.

Stripping down to his boxers, Ichigo poured out the contents of the bag onto bench, staring down at them with wide eyes. He had been prepared for the shirt and jeans, but picking up the tiny black boyshorts, Ichigo felt his eyes grow to the size of saucers

_What the fuck was Kisuke planning on having him do?_

* * *

><p>Grimmjow POV<p>

"Ah, Jeagerjaques-sama, I trust you are enjoying your visit?"

Grimmjow looked up from his drink to see a blond haired man with a striped bucket hat hovering behind the bar, obviously talking to him. Grimmjow smirked, his ego purring at the thought of how the orangette had reacted to him earlier.

"I am. Now, can I help you, hat n' clogs?" Grimmjow replied gruffly, giving the man a once over.

"Kisuke Urahara," the blond man replied, bowing slightly. "The owner of Hueco Mundo." The man straightened, snapping a fan open and covering his face, peering at Grimmjow with those slightly unnerving green eyes half hidden by his bangs.

"Jeagerjaques-sama, I noticed you conversing earlier with my Vastro Lorde, and was wondering if you would perhaps be interested in a private performance by him? Free of charge, of course," the man, Urahara, said in that airy, almost distracted, voice.

Grimmjow grinned, all tooth and predatory gleam. "Go on," he said, his voice rumbling out of his chest like a purr. The tip of his tongue peeked out, running in a rather feral display of interest over alcohol flavored lips.

The blond haired man slid out from behind the bar in a flurry of green robes, walking past Grimmjow toward the door to the left of the bar that lead to the VIP room. Grimmjow slid off his stool, following the man with his feline gait as Kisuke clicked along in his clogs.

"Here at Hueco Mundo, the happiness of our customers is of the utmost importance to us, and with you being the second in command of The Espada, well," the man smiled, pulling open the door and turning to face him, his grin hidden by his fan. "We would do everything possible to ensure your happiness. We wouldn't want to lose any of our best customers, now would we?

This man knew how to stroke his ego, Grimmjow could give him that, his inner demon purring in delight at the man's complementing of his gang. Grimmjow moved through the doorway with a nod, finding himself in a room slightly smaller than the size of the dance floor, but seeing as the floor was positively massive, the room was still a very good size.

A bar quite similar, albeit a bit smaller, to the one outside, but there was no bartender, leaving the guests to fix whatever they wished. Black couches were crowded around a center stage, a retractable pole in the ceiling, surrounded by dimmable lights. The floor was polished black marble, the walls a rich grey with lighter grey trim, multiple abstract pictures hanging around the room.

Grimmjow raised a slim blue brow, turning to look back at Kisuke, the man snapping his fan shut as he stepped into the room, looking around. His eyes locked onto one of the black couches, the smile melting from his face.

"Sarugaki and Hisagi," the blond man snapped, his tone curt. "I presume that you both have a valid reason as to why you are in here, yes?"

Just as the man finished speaking, Grimmjow's ears picked up the sound of rustling clothing, a petite girl with a rugged blond bob peeked her head over the back of a couch, a light blush coloring her cheeks. Immediately following, a masculine sigh whispered out from behind the couch, a man with short, black hair sitting up from under the blonde.

Bored, dark grey eyes passed leisurely over the pair of men before the tall, 5' 11" frame pulled itself up from the couch, the blonde falling with a small "oof" on her ass. The man turned and pulled her roughly to her feet, the girl obviously high on something, the man not far behind her.

Grimmjow fought the urge to laugh. _This man had obviously gotten way too drunk at one point. He has a fuckin' 69 tatted on his fuckin' face. _

Giving the two men a bored look as he passes by, the man, Hisagi, tugged the girl along behind him as she hurriedly tried to both balance on killer red pumps and fix her leather mini-dress. Grimmjow curled his lip in distaste. E sluts like her made him feel like vomiting.

"One more time, Hisagi," Urahara says pleasantly, his green eyes glinting threateningly as he glared at the man. "You are testing my patience."

Once the door had clicked shut, Urahara turned his attention back to Grimmjow, a grin filling his face once more. "Terribly sorry, Jeagerjaques-sama. I hope you accept the Lorde's performance as an apology."

Grimmjow smirked to himself, moving further into the room, looking around. "So, this performance, I can basically ask him to do whatever I want, and he has to do it?" Grimmjow's voice came out more as a purr than anything, his inner animal rolling around in delight at the prospect of asserting his dominance over that delicious berry.

His fingers itched to run over that smooth skin, to grab those sharp hips until they bruised, to have those plump lips scream his name in the throes of ecstasy. Oh yes, he would do _everything _to that man.

Urahara grinned, flicking open his fan. "But of course. As I said earlier, we do everything possible to ensure our customers' satisfaction. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with a very important man tonight," he said, turning to leave.

"The Lorde will be in here momentarily, he just has to finish getting ready for you. I do hope you enjoy yourself," he says, his sing-song taking on a dreamy lilt, reaching to open the door.

"Urahara," Grimmjow purred, glancing at the man over his shoulder. "One last thing."

"Yes?" the man said, pausing, his hand over the doorknob.

"We're going to need more than 2 hours," Grimmjow said, his voice rumbling from his chest, a cross between a purr and a possessive growl.

Urahara smirked, turning and bowing low. "Of course, Jeagerjaques-sama. Take as long as you desire." With that, he turned and swept out of the room, the door closing with a soft _click._

* * *

><p>Ichigo POV<p>

Ichigo stared at his reflection in the full length mirror, trying to gather up the courage to walk into that room.

The leather pants looked painted on, the tank-top practically exposing his entire chest. The velvet collar fit his neck like a second skin, tight enough to avoid slipping, but loose enough to allow easy breathing. He had changed his usual mask out for a half faced one, covered in tiny black rhinestones, save for a ring around the eyes which was made with silver ones.

Ichigo sighs, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips, the diamond stud flashing teasingly at him.

He glares at his reflection, squaring his shoulders and holding his head high. "Dammit, Ichigo, get a hold of yourself. You've entertained people before, he's no different. Grow some balls, go out there, and show that motherfucker that no one can own you."

All semblance of confidence flew out the window the second he caught sight of Grimmjow.

"Oi, Berry, you know how to use this thing or what?" Grimmjow purred, slowly lowering the pole from the ceiling. "Or do you want me to teach you?"

Mother-_fucker. _

"I-I…" Ichigo stuttered, taking a step back, only to be met with the door pressing against his back.

Grimmjow smirked, dropping the remote onto one of the couches and slowly sauntering toward Ichigo, his gait feline- predatory.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Grimmjow purred, taking slow, leisurely steps toward Ichigo, now only a mere foot away.

Ichigo wanted to melt to the floor.

"I-I was t-taught how to d-d-dance in t-training b-but I never r-really-" Ichigo gulped- "used the skill b-before." He felt like he was going to burst into flames. Grimmjow was hovering mere inches away, his hands on either side of his head, his face a breath away from his.

"Mmmm... then tell me,_ Vastro Lorde," _Grimmjow purred, one of his hands, trailing lightly down Ichigo's left arm, the touch feather light. It nearly drove Ichigo mad. "How 'bout you show me just how skilled these hips are."

At the word hips, Grimmjow's hand fell to rest possessively on Ichigo's left hip, his thumb lightly tracing over the waist of his pants. Grimmjow leaned closer still, his face dropping to nuzzle at Ichigo's neck, blowing a cool breath over smooth, tanned skin. Ichigo was two steps away from trembling; his eyes shut tight, his lower lip clamped between his teeth as he desperately fought back a breathy moan.

Grimmjow inhaled slowly, his grip on Ichigo's hip tightening. "Damn," he purred, moving an inch closer. "You smell _amazing. _I want to lick you all over…"

Ichigo couldn't help the gasp that fell from his lips, his head falling back against the door with a soft _thud_. Grimmjow's libido flared at the sound, a wicked grin tearing across his face. His tongue peeked out from between his lips, tracing cross the shell of Ichigo's ear before slowly puling the lobe into his mouth, giving it a soft suck before releasing it.

"Dance for me, Vastro Lorde," Grimmjow purred, nipping softly at the wet lobe. "Dance for me."

Ichigo gasped at the sudden loss of heat, Grimmjow grabbing Ichigo's hand a tugging him toward the stage, grinning hungrily at him. Ichigo blushed deeply, immediately looking away. Grimmjow let go of his hand when he was standing just before the stage, falling back onto the couch.

Cocking his head to the side, Grimmjow smirked at the berry, running his tongue teasingly over his lips. "Don't be shy," he said, his voice a teasing rumble.

Ichigo awkwardly pulled himself onto the stage, nothing more than a circular platform about 8 square feet, a tall silver pole in the middle. Ichigo bit his lip, glancing at the pole and back at Grimmjow, whose smirk only widened in response.

"Th-there's no music." Ichigo said, looking at his feet awkwardly.

Grimmjow smirked, a low purr rumbling gin his chest. "You don't need music. Talk to me while you dance, Vastro Lorde, sing with your body."

Ichigo groaned softly at the sound of the man's voice, the sound sending his blood south. Closing his eyes, he leaned back against the pole, his hand rising to grip the pole above his head. Planting his feet beneath him, Ichigo slowly lowered his body until he was in a squat, his legs spread. Slowly opening his eyes to half mast, Ichigo pulled his lip between his teeth, gazing at the blue haired man, his brown eyes bright with lust.

"That's it, Berry," Grimmjow purred, slumping back against the couch, his hands to either side of him as he watched the spectacle before him. "Touch yourself for me. Let me hear you."

Ichigo's eyes fell shut at the rough sound of the man's voice, his hand free hand sliding over his thigh, slowly rubbing it over the growing bulge between his legs, a soft moan falling from his lips. He had known that touching himself felt good, he had done it before, but it felt so much better when he had this man before him, when he was able to imagine that it was his hands on him.

Ichigo slowly pushed himself up against the pole, using his impressive upper body strength to pull himself up with only one hand. Turning around, he slowly ground himself against the cool metal of the pole, giving the man a nice view of his pert ass, the leather clinging to his legs like a second skin.

"That's it, Berry. Imagine that it's me you're grinding against," Grimmjow purred, eye raping the man before him. How he desperately wished to know his name. He would learn it before the night was up, he would see to that, but for now, he wanted to see how far the orangette would go. "Moan my name."

Ichigo threw his head back, grinding his hips in a slow circle against the pole. "Ngh, Grimm…" Ichigo moaned, his voice laced with lust. Turning around, Ichigo slowly slid his hands under the hem of his shirt, slowly peeling it off of his chest.

Grimmjow's breath hitched, watching as the young man tore off his shirt, tossing it dismissively to the side. His hands twitched at his sides, yearning to touch that tanned flesh, to dip below the waistband of those pants and see what lied beneath.

Grimmjow smirked, running his eyes over that lithe body as it was bared to him, inch by inch. "C'mon Berry," Grimmjow growled, his voice rough with desire. "That can't be all you can do."

Grimmjow grinned tauntingly at the orangette, his eyes turning a shade darker with desire as the man gets on his knees, slowly crawling towards him. Grimmjow's eyes flashed with lust, watching as the rhinestones on the man's mask flashed in the stage lights.

"What's yer name?" Grimmjow husked, his deep blue eyes slowly dragging over the Berry's form, watching as he slowly put his hands on the couch between his knees, sitting back on his haunches. The orange haired man merely smirked.

Ichigo may have been lust drunk, but he still had some of his wits about him.

"I may have to _do _whatever you want, but I don't have to _tell you _anything."

With that, Ichigo climbed onto the couch, straddling Grimmjow's hips. Leaning down, Ichigo brushed his lips against that long neck, rolling his hips agonizingly slowly against Grimmjow's.

Grimmjow lets out a soft gasp, his head falling back against the couch. Ichigo smirks at the man's reaction, flicking his tongue out against the tanned neck, moaning softly at the intoxicating taste. A musk that only Grimmjow could have, tinged with the sharp salt of sweat. It was stronger than any drug- more potent than any dosage of alcohol.

And even after just one taste, Ichigo was hopelessly addicted.

He had to have more. Latching his mouth onto the tender spot of skin between the man's neck and shoulder, Ichigo laved his tongue over the tanned skin, grinding his hips harder against the man.

It had been what felt like ages since he had felt this delicious friction- this fire that licked at his skin with a desire so intense, it could cripple even the strongest of wills. Ichigo moaned deeply, the sound bubbling up from his chest, vibrating deliciously against Grimmjow's skin.

He wanted more, craved it.

With one last suck to the man's skin, Ichigo leaned his head back, long, tanned fingers coming up to tangle in orange hair.

Grimmjow forced his head back, delivering harsh bites and sucks to the slender neck presented to him, unable to keep his hips from bucking against the orangette's. The man was an animal, his hands moving all over Grimmjow's body, tugging at his clothes, his hips grinding savagely against his. And the man's taste.

Christ on a bike. He tasted _so_ _fucking good. _Like cinnamon and oranges, and his sweat- Kami, he wanted to devour him whole.

"Lorde," Grimmjow husked, placing soft kisses up the tanned column, feeling the orangette's fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "Please, tell me your name."

Ichigo was trembling, liquid pleasure coursing through his body. His blood was on fire, he was rock hard, and Grimmjow's fingers tracing over the waist of his pants was doing nothing to help him calm down. Ichigo moaned desperately, bucking his hips into the touch. He needed more: more friction, more heat, more pain, more pleasure. He needed it all.

And this gorgeous hunk of a man was sitting here, willing to give it all to him, and all he asked for in return was a name.

"Ichigo," the orangette breathed, twining his fingers in sky blue strands, tilting Grimmjow's face up to his. "My name is Ichigo Kurosaki. Now kiss me."

* * *

><p>Shirosaki POV<p>

It was past 1. Where the hell was his delicious bartender?

He was getting restless. He glanced at his watch again, the scowl on his face deepening.

1:37 AM.

He had scoured the dance floor when the bartenders and baristas had left the lounge. He was positive that none of them were his Berry. _So where the fuck was he? He didn't just leave, did he? _

Shirosaki slumped lower in his barstool, nursing his seventh beer. He could drink a lot more than most, and he could remain sober longer. But right now it wasn't a trait he was extremely fond of. He wanted to touch that man again.

Those eyes had stayed in his mind, as clear as they were when he first saw them. _Molten brown, the color of melted milk chocolate with a cinnamon sugar sprinkle. I wonder if he tastes like cinnamon too. _

_He certainly smelled like it. _

_Tanned legs, miles long, wrapped in a vise like grip around pale white hips, an endless stream of mewls and moans spilling from kiss bruised lips. Orange hair splayed across the pillow like a halo of fire, tiny droplets of sweat rolling down sun-kissed skin. Velvety walls clenched around his rock hard cock, practically sucking him it._

"_N-ngh, Shiro… Ah! Hah-harder!"_

_Lilly soft lips trace a path down the tanned column of neck before him, black nailed fingertips brushing against pink nipples, one teasing hand sliding lower on the toned body, fingers slipping around a dripping length, pumping it in time with the albino's animalistic thrusts. _

"_Ah! Sh-Shiro! I-I'm…hah-SHIRO!"_

A sharp snap of fingers in front of his face brought the second in command back to the present, gold on black eyes blinking in momentary confusion. Even that tiny fantasy had Shiro breaking out in a sweat, his pants just a little too tight.

"Shirosaki-sama? Aren't you supposed to be in the VIP room with the Vastro Lorde and Jeagerjaques-sama?" a tall man with steely brown eyes and a blond bob asked him, lowering his hand to the countertop.

Shiro blinked in confusion. "Wha?"

The man cocked his head to the side. "I was under the impression that you were to be entertained by the Vastro Lorde." The man leaned back, standing straight. "They're in the VIP lounge if you wish the join them."

Flashing a piano toothed grin, the blond haired man turned away, setting back to work.

An animalistic smirk tore across the albino's face, gold eyes glittering with hunger. Shiro slammed his beer down on the bar, slipping off of the stool. His stride was predatory as he stalked toward the black door that led to the VIP lounge, his smirk growing with each step.

So, the Vastro Lorde was supposed to _entertain _him, hmm?

This could be very interesting.

Opening the door, Shiro slipped inside, turning around and closing the door softly behind him. Turning around, Shiro lifted his eyes, a demented laugh tearing from his throat at the sight that met him.

_Oh yes. This would be interesting indeed._

* * *

><p>Ichigo POV<p>

"Ngh, Grimmjow!" Ichigo gasped, his back meeting the cold granite of the bar's countertop at the same time Grimmjow's long fingers wrapped around his dripping length. Ichigo's back arched into the touch, Grimmjow's sharp teeth biting into his neck before a tongue laved over the love bite in apology, the hand wrapped around his throbbing length moving at a playful pace.

"Mmm, Ichigo…" Grimmjow purred, nipping at the smooth skin on the orangette's neck, slowly stroking Ichigo's length, his ego drinking up the delicious noises the man was making as he writhed and bucked into his touch.

Ichigo had lost his pants several minutes back, and Grimmjow had literally purred in delight at the sight of the tiny black boy shorts the berry was wearing.

And now here he was, sprawled out on the granite countertop of the VIP lounge, panting and begging like a bitch in heat, Grimmjow's half naked body on top of his-

Staring at Shirosaki.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: What is that I see? A lemony cliff hanger? Mmmyesquite. That it is. And once more I state, CALM YOUR PANTS! <strong>

**This was a bit of a stretch to make in one day ((5, 176 words)), but I think I pulled it off, ne? ((XD probably gonna come back and edit a shit ton later.))**

**Yeah, I was going to set the deadline for this chapter at the end of tomorrow ((err, today at this point O.o)) but I decided that if I had this done earlier, then I could give it to Deranged and Morbid as her first birthday present of the day. So yeah. BE HAPPY BITCH! XD Love you. **

**What shall happen next? Will the lemon be finished? What will be Shiro's reaction? What will happen to our poor berry now that his name's out in the open? What was with last chapter's intro? What happened to the other Vastro Lorde? So many questions!**

**Questions? Comments? Review or PM me! **

**Complaints? Call 1-800-FUCKOFF C;**

**Ja ne~**

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><p><strong>Sorry for yet ANOTHER chapter update, but this one you'll enjoy even more. Any of you interested in a little Chapter 3 teaser? C; I felt bad about holding out on you guys, so I decided to give y'all a little taste of what to expect next chapter, simply because you guys are so amazing. <strong>

**Enjoy~**

Ichigo gasped sharply at the pain tearing through him, tears springing to his eyes as Grimmjow groaned above him, his breath harsh in Ichigo's ear. Soft hands ghosted over Ichigo's quivering form as his erection wilted at the intense pain, long fingers rubbing soothing circles over his hips.

"Ichigo," a voice breathed into his ear, petal soft lips brushing over his closed eyelids, down across his jaw and along his neck. "Open yer eyes."

Ichigo shivered softly at the voice, peeking his eyes open to see Shiro's pale, naked form beneath him, his breath hitching when long, black nailed fingers wrapped around his softening member. Inverted, gold on black eyes flickered from smoldering brown ones to oceanic blue, inclining his head slightly.

Grimmjow started moving his hips in small circles at the same time that Shirosaki started stroking Ichigo's member. Little bolts of pleasure raced across the Berry's skin, when all of a sudden, a wave of mind-numbing pleasure shot through Ichigo as Grimmjow's cock hit that one spot inside of him that relit the inferno. A low, rumbling moan bubbled up from Ichigo's chest, the speed of Shiro's hand increasing at the sound.

Grimmjow smirked; sharp canines glinting as he slowly pulled out, then trust back in hard, a possessive growl tumbling from his lips. Shirosaki sealed his lips over the berry's swallowing each delicious sound the man made, grinding his hips against the orangette's.

"Grimmjow," Shiro growled, nipping at the orange haired man's lip. "Let me in."

Shooting him a look that clearly told Shiro to hurry the fuck up, Grimmjow pulled nearly all the way out, placing a soft kiss against Ichigo's neck. "This is gonna hurt a lot more, Ichi," Grimmjow murmured softly, shooting the albino a look over a tanned shoulder. "But then it's gonna feel really good. Just bear with us."

Ichigo nodded numbly, locking eyes with Shiro as the pale man lined his length up with Grimmjow's. "Do it."

The breathless command made both men groan, thrusting into the tight heat at the same time, a strangled scream tearing itself from kiss bruised lips.

"Jesus, Ichi," Shiro groaned, locking his fingers in the sunset hair hovering just over his face.

"Just m-move- _oh, God- _already!" the orangette hissed, his lithe body trembling.

The two older men grinned, their eyes meeting over Ichigo's shoulder.

Here. We. Go.

**Ja ne~**


	3. Unmasked

**AN: Helloallo~ First off, I'm so so SO sorry I haven't updated in what seems like forever ((Christine: TT^TT too long; Me: =.= It's only been like three weeks; Christine:…Too long…)) but I have gone brain dead with all the tests and reviews and glasses and turtles on ceilings and Phillip has not been helping in the least. Damn squirrel is so distracting. Secondly, thank you so so much for all the reviews! I replied to a handful of them, and to those that I couldn't reply to or those that I didn't get the time to, I thank you very much for taking the time to review. I know you've been awaiting that lemon that I hinted at last chapter, but I decided to cancel it. V.V Yeah, sorry. Just didn't fit….  
>Lolno, I promise you, this chapter is 4,000 words of lemony goodness. XD Without further ado, Twisted; Chapter 3-Unmasked.<strong>

**((EDIT))AN: Okay, so FF kinda went on the fritz and didn't upload chapter three the first time, so I'm uploading it agan~ So sorry!**

**WARNING: Rated M for sexual situations in later chapters ((or not~ ^^)), including a shit ton of YAOI, BONDAGE, DOUBLE PENETRATION, THREESOMES, and whatever else my messed up perverted mind can cook up. Also rated M for language. There's gonna be a fair dosage of stupidity, and probably some angst in later chapters.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, cannot, and will not own any of the characters from the anime/manga Bleach. Someone should have to pay for my un-owningness of it. I vote Luppi.**

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><p>Is it still me that makes you sweat?<br>Am I who you think about in bed?  
>When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?<br>Then think of what you did  
>And how I hope to God he was worth it.<br>When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch his skin.  
>I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck<br>Than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie you had me  
>Girl I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of<br>Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat?  
>No, no, no, you know it will always just be me<p>

Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster  
>So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,<br>Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?  
>So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,<br>Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close

So I guess we're back to us, oh cameraman, swing the focus  
>In case I lost my train of thought, where was it that we last left off?<br>(Let's pick up, pick up)

Oh now I do recall, we were just getting to the part  
>Where the shock sets in, and the stomach acid finds a new way to make you get sick.<br>I hope you didn't expect that you'd get all of the attention.  
>Now let's not get selfish<br>Did you really think I'd really let you kill this chorus?

Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster  
>So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,<br>Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?  
>So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,<br>Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?

Dance to this beat  
>Dance to this beat<br>Dance to this beat

Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster  
>Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster<p>

I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck  
>Than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie you had me<br>Girl I was it, look past the sweat, a better love deserving of  
>Exchanging body heat in the passenger seat?<br>No, no, no, you know it will always just be me

Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster  
>So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,<br>Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?  
>So testosterone boys and harlequin girls,<br>Will you dance to this beat, and hold a lover close?

So testosterone boys and harlequin girls  
>Dance to this beat<br>So testosterone boys and harlequin girls  
>Dance to this beat<br>And hold a lover close  
>Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster, faster<br>Let's get these teen hearts beating. Faster

-"Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off" by Panic! At The Disco-

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><p><strong>Twisted<strong>

**Chapter Three:**

**Unmasked**

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><p>Ichigo POV<p>

"Sh-Shiro," Ichigo gasped out, a slow growl bubbling up from Grimmjow's throat as he lowered himself closer to his body, a muscled arm wrapping tightly around the orangette's waist in an instinctual show of possessiveness. The head of orange locks hit the granite sharply, a flinch tightening the features of his face momentarily before they smoothed out into a look of shock.

Cyan eyes met with inverted gold on black as the berry lay breathlessly beneath the rock hard body of the Espada's second in command. Shirosaki cackled, throwing back his snowy hair as loud, near violent laughs racked his lithe frame, the maniacal sounds shivering across the younger man's skin like the touch of a deceased lover.

"Well, well," the albino giggled, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. "Wha' do we 'ave 'ere?" The icy purr tickled Ichigo's skin, making his toes curl against the slowly warming granite of the bar. Grimmjow's muscles tensed, scarily sharp teeth bared in a silent snarl- not that it would be silent for much longer at the rate Shirosaki was going. "Looks like Grimmy-kins couldan' keep 'is paws off ya'."

Gulping strongly, Ichigo pulled his kiss-swollen lower lip between his teeth, worrying the delicate flesh. Grimmjow's chest vibrated with his snarl, the startling sound ripping its way from between razor edged teeth.

"This doesn' concern you," Grimmjow states slowly, half a growl wrapped around the words. Mussed blue locks fall into his face, partially covering darkened blue eyes. The glare he was giving could have sent even the most street-tough gangsters running for mommy, but it seemed to be lost completely as the white haired man stalked forward, a shark toothed grin tearing across pale features at the threat.

"I danno abou' tha'," Shirosaki drawled, lazily stepping closer. Gleaming gold eyes dropped to Ichigo's, anger and lust swirling simultaneously in those molten depths. "He dinna seem ta mind it much when I had my tongue on tha' skin a' his."

Ichigo fought back the heat curling itself up his neck; the orangette's cheeks already stained a rosy pink with arousal. It was true. That tongue had felt sinfully delicious against his flesh. The young man couldn't help it as his thoughts took a turn south, imagining that slick blue muscle sweeping over sweat slicked skin, tracing a tantalizing path down over his back, thrusting and laving over his entrance.

Ichigo let out a breathless moan, the thoughts coupled with the calloused feel of Grimmjow's palm against his still dripping length making his dick twitch with want.

Navy blue lashes fluttered as the man above him blinked, peering down at the orange haired man with curiosity. Ichigo couldn't help the blush that spread like wildfire across his face and neck when those deep blue pools grew darker with lust, a pink tongue peeking out to wet lips. Grimmjow's hand tightened around his length, giving it a strong pump.

A strangled moan passed his lips; Ichigo's back arching slightly off the smooth granite of the bar. Molten brown eyes rolled back as that hand continued to pump Ichigo's hard length, even after those angelic eyes lifted back to those of the pale demon watching the orangette with unbridled hunger.

"Doesn't seem ta me like he's incredibly interested in what ya have ta say right now. Come back later so I can kick yer ass properly, yeah?" Grimmjow growled, dropping his head to nip at Ichigo's bared throat in an animalistic show of dominance. Yet at the same time a warning to the high-ranked Hollow: _I can cause him pain just as quickly as I can you. _

Shiro merely chuckled, licking his lips at the tantalizing challenge presented to him. The orangette was sprawled wantonly beneath the muscled man, his skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, tight black shorts clinging to slim hips as the blue Adonis stroked the younger man's throbbing length, his ripped chest hovering mere inches above the berry's toned one.

Shiro tsk'd. This wouldn't work, now would it? He'd be damned if he was going to let this blue haired mutt have his way with his berry.

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><p>Grimmjow POV<p>

"Sorry, Grimmy-kin, but I'm ganna have ta ask ya ta get the fuck off a ma berry," a distorted voice growled a mere second before long, thin fingers wove into sky blue hair, violently yanking the Espada's head back from the body splayed temptingly beneath him.

A growl ripped its way from Grimmjow's throat. Like hell this popsicle was gonna keep him from his strawberry. No fucking way.

"If ya know wha's good fer ya," Shiro purred, a wicked grin cutting across pale features, an azure tongue running against the ridge of sharpened teeth. "You'll get offa him in tha next, oh, three seconds."

The second in command snarled, baring his teeth at him, never one to back down. "Yeah? Sorry, I don' take orders from pussies like yerself."

The smirk never once faltered from pale lips, gold on black eyes flashing with lust for the man spilled provocatively beneath the blue haired man and the blood tinged tension hanging heavy in the air.

Grimmjow pulled himself up, letting go of the younger man's cock and trailing his broad hand over his hip in apology before sliding off the bar, peering down at the pale demon that dared to stand against him.

"C'mon Blue," he cackled, spreading his arms wide in challenge. Shiro smirked, snowy white locks falling forward to hide his eyes. "Too afraid ta take a hit at yer old frien'?"

That sent Grimmjow's blood boiling.

The blue haired Adonis didn't know what made him more livid- the fact that he thought he was scared, or that he called what the two men had had a friendship. All he knows is that one second he was standing in front of the albino, wishing he would melt to the floor in a pile of flames and distorted screams, and the next he was launching himself at Shirosaki, cyan eyes promising blood.

Grimmjow dove toward him, body thrumming with adrenalin. He threw his fist at the ghostly white face, watching as those pale features easily slid to the side, the grin on Shirosaki's face only widening.

"C'mon kitty, ya can do better than tha'." Shiro waggled his tongue at the blue haired man, his eyes glinting with the thrill of the fight. Fucked up bastard got off on this kinda shit.

"Lemme see yer claws."

Grimmjow barely registered a small gasp behind him as Ichigo sat up, pulled enough from his lustful mindset to take notice of the fight breaking out in front of him. The blue haired beast paid it no mind, dropping to the ground, sweeping his left leg out in a sweeping kick meant to tear the paler man's legs out from under him. The ghostlike man had predicted this though, stepping out of the way almost lazily.

Shirosaki scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Yav' gotten slow. 'Ave ya already forgotten all tha' I taugh' ya?"

Grimmjow spat to the side, glaring holes into the albino's porcelain skinned chest, marred by numerous scars from his life on the streets. He knew that it was not as rough as it looked thought. The blue haired second in command had ran his hands over that chest countless times, had felt that heart beating strong beneath his bones, had tasted the sweat that dripped down it in the throes of passion. He had loved it, too.

"I'll try when ya stop pussyfootin' around and actually fight me."

Shiro grinned, all teeth and lust, his muscles rippling with the prospect of a good fight.

"Show me whatcha' got, kitten, and then I'll decide whether ta bother maself with ya or just collect ma berry and be on ma way."

Grimmjow threw himself at Shirosaki again, tanned fists itching to make sweet, brutal contact with that snowy, smooth skin- to stain it black and blue. A false blow to his solar plexus threw the pale demon off guard just enough for Grimmjow to land a strong but poorly aimed punch on the Hollow's jaw, only managing to clip the bone. Shirosaki used the momentum of the larger man's punch to repeat the very move Grimmjow had just used, kicking his foot out and catching the blue haired man's knee, knocking the larger man off his feet.

Grimmjow dropped into a backwards roll, instantly back on his feet the second he regained his balance. The two bodies moved together in a dance of fists and feet, sweat coating each of the muscular bodies as they blocked and parried, limbs moving like liquid.

Shirosaki and Grimmjow had fought many times before; they knew the way each others' bodies worked, the way they moved. They knew the holes in each others' defenses, their strongest moves, and where to touch to get _that _sound. And with how well the two men knew each other, they weren't afraid to play dirty.

Grimmjow lunged forward, hands outstretched toward the albino's throat. White teeth gleamed in a malicious grin, azure eyes narrowed in an excited glare. Shiro didn't miss a beat, the maniacal smirk on his face only growing.

Even breathing turned into pants as sweat slicked bodies moved closer, insults growing lesser until they turned into soft hums. Punches turned into grabs, bared teeth turned into needy tongues searching for the heat of the others mouth.

"Shirosaki," the blue haired man growled, pinning the pale, sweaty man to the wall, tanned, muscular body pressing a pale, toned one into the wall. Shirosaki's breath panted against the Espada's neck as the albino grinned lewdly up at the other man.

"Yes, _Grimmjow?" _

_Fuck, no one should be able to say a name like that- like it was a sin and sex all wrapped into one._ Grimmjow dropped my mouth to the pale white neck presented to him, nipping and sucking at that pale white skin, feeling black nails digging into the bare skin of his back. A slow growl bubbled up from the blue haired Espada's throat at the pleasurable burn as the man nipped against the rapid pulse of the albino.

Shiro purred at the thinly cloaked threat, his white hands twining the man's electric blue hair into knots. Black nails scraped against the large man's scalp as he bucked his hips against the rival gang member's, taunting him. Shiro wanted to see how far the man would go before calling it quits.

Behind the two men, Ichigo gulped, the sight before him burning itself into his eyes. The soft sound of the two men panting was beyond erotic, and when Shirosaki bucked his hips against Grimmjow's, Ichigo had to bite his lip to keep from moaning. Long, tanned fingers twitched toward his crotch, his hard-on nearly painful.

Shirosaki tugged on Grimmjow's blue hair, forcing his head up. Grimmjow's oceanic eyes bored into his, darkened to near black with lust. Ichigo couldn't help the moan that poured from his lips when an azure tongue snaked out from between pale lips, lewdly tracing Grimmjow's lips. His fingers wrapped around his length, tearing a breathy gasp from him as he begin to stroke himself, desperate to get off.

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><p>Shirosaki POV<p>

Kami on earth, that orange haired man would be the death of him.

The instant a sound had spilled from those full lips, Shirosaki's eyes had been on him. He had been greeted with the sight of the orangette seated on the edge of the bar, his legs spread wide, and his head thrown back as a breathy gasp fell from his lips. And when Shiro's eyes had drifted lower, _Kami_, he nearly came at the sight of the tanned hand wrapped around the orange-haired man's length.

Shiro groaned low in his throat, his eyes flickering back to Grimmjow's. The blue haired man's eyes dropped to half mast at the heady sound that came from the albino, the white haired man grinding his hips wantonly against his.

Shirosaki pulled Grimmjow's head back and to the side, attacking his throat with nips and kisses and sucks. Grimmjow growled lowly, his blue eyes turning to the bar when he caught sight of movement.

Ichigo moaned, his hips bucking up into his own hand as he feverishly stroked himself, the erotic sounds of sucking and groans nearly pushing himself over the edge. Ichigo's head felt heavy, his body burning. He felt drunk and high at the same time- a heady combination. He just needed something _more _to push him off the edge.

Shiro practically purred with pleasure at the arousing sight of the orangette desperately stroking himself, knowing that they were the cause. Tanned fingers wove into snowy locks, pulling Shiro's head back for a pair of lips to capture his in a rough kiss. It was over as soon as it started, leaving the two panting but with the same idea.

Using the Berry's current distraction to their advantage, the two gang members stalked toward him, Shirosaki sliding between the male's outstretched legs, inhaling a lungful of the orangette's scent. It nearly made him groan, the smell of sweat and sex dominant, with an underlying taste of cinnamon and something else that was purely the Vastro Lorde's.

Meanwhile, Grimmjow slid onto the lower counter of the bar behind the orangette, his indigo eyes catching Shirosaki's over the smaller man's shoulder. Shirosaki grinned, winking lewdly at Grimmjow over the still oblivious man's shoulder.

_Ne, he wouldan be oblivious fer much longer. _

With a slight nod between the two men, Shiro dropped to his knees, pulling the orangette's hand away and sucking the orange haired man's erection into his mouth at the same time that Grimmjow plunged a finger into the Berry's entrance.

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><p>Ichigo POV<p>

_Oh Kami help him—_

Ichigo screamed, his back arching as he came, his sticky hot seed shooting into the albino's mouth.

"Tha's it," Grimmjow husked from behind him, one large hand gripping his hip, his other hand working a finger deeper into his twitching entrance. "Scream fer us, Ichigo."

Shirosaki hummed around Ichigo's quickly hardening member at finding out the man's name, long, sun-kissed fingers twining into snow white locks as that head bobbed over his length.

Grimmjow grinned down at Shirosaki as the albino set to working those skin-tight boyshorts down Ichigo's legs and kicking off his black buckled combat boots, all the while sucking Ichi off. It was a fuckin' arousing sight, one that had Grimmjow purring in delight as he latched his lips onto the side of his berry's neck, sucking and nipping at the smooth skin.

Ichigo writhed between the two men, letting out a whimper of protest when that wet heat left his throbbing member. Dark, molten brown eyes opened slightly, showing bleary, lust fogged eyes. Ichigo peered down at Shirosaki, panting at the sight of the albino standing before him, peeling off his shirt and unbuckling his jeans. Any protest toward the lack of the pale man's lips on his body flew out the window as Grimmjow plunged another finger deep into his entrance.

A strangled moan tore itself from Ichigo's mouth, his lithe body twisting and writhing at the pleasurable intrusion. He was no virgin, nor was he a slut, but for some reason, his body was so much more sensitive to the touch of the two men.

Maybe it was the four shots Grimmjow had forced him to down while the man tortured his nipples with that wicked tongue of his, but maybe it was just because it had been so long since he had been touched like this. However, any and all rational thoughts were quickly tossed to the back of his mind when a third finger pushed its way into his tight entrance.

By now, Ichigo was moaning and mewling like a bitch in heat, his hips thrusting back against the fingers impaling him, desperately craving more friction. Slim, pale fingers traced over Ichigo's toned chest, black nailed fingertips playfully pinching at one of his nipples, delighting in the pleasure-stricken sounds that spilled from thoroughly ravished lips. Inverted gold-on-black eyes flickered to Grimmjow, the larger man pulling the berry's hips flush against his as he yanked his fingers out, lining up his member with the orangette's entrance.

Ichigo barely had time to register the loss of the fingers before he had something much bigger trust inside of him.

Ichigo gasped sharply at the pain tearing through him, tears springing to his tightly closed eyes as Grimmjow groaned above him, his breath harsh in Ichigo's ear.

_Kami, it hurts so badly, _Ichigo screamed in his head, his body going rigid at the intrusion. It wasn't that Ichigo had never felt this pain before; it was just that Grimmjow was so much bigger than Shuuhei had been. Soft hands ghosted over Ichigo's quivering form as his erection wilted at the intense pain, long fingers rubbing soothing circles over his hips.

"Ichigo," a slightly distorted voice breathed into his ear, petal soft lips brushing over his closed eyelids, down across his jaw and along his neck. "Open yer eyes."

Ichigo shivered softly at the voice, peeking his eyes open to see Shiro's pale, naked form beneath him. His breath hitched when long, black nailed fingers wrapped around his softening member. Inverted, gold on black eyes flickered from smoldering brown ones to oceanic blue, inclining his head slightly.

Grimmjow started moving his hips in small circles at the same time that Shirosaki started stroking Ichigo's member. Little bolts of pleasure raced across the berry's skin, when all of a sudden, a wave of mind-numbing pleasure shot through Ichigo as Grimmjow's cock hit that one spot inside of him that relit the inferno within him. A low, rumbling moan bubbled up from Ichigo's chest, the speed of Shiro's hand increasing at the sound, Ichigo's member practically jumping to attention at the sensations coursing through his body.

Grimmjow smirked; sharp canines glinting as he slowly pulled out, and then trust back in hard, a possessive growl tumbling from his lips. Shirosaki sealed his lips over the berry's, swallowing each delicious sound the man made, grinding his hips against the orangette's.

"Grimmjow," Shiro growled, nipping at the orange haired man's lip. "Let me in."

Shooting him a look that clearly told Shiro to hurry the fuck up, Grimmjow impatiently pulled nearly all the way out, placing a soft kiss against Ichigo's neck. "This is gonna hurt a lot more, Ichi," Grimmjow murmured softly, shooting the albino a look over a tanned shoulder. "But then it's gonna feel really good. Just bear with us."

Ichigo nodded numbly, panting, locking eyes with Shiro as the pale man lined his length up with Grimmjow's against his stretched entrance. "Do it."

The breathless command made both men groan, thrusting into the tight heat at the same time, a strangled scream tearing itself from Ichigo's kiss bruised lips.

"Jesus, Ichi," Shiro groaned, locking his fingers in the sunset hair hovering just over his face. Kami, it _had _to be illegal to be _that _tight. And how in the hell did the man's body get so _hot? _

Grimmjow wasn't in a much better place when it came to forming complete sentences, that tight heat becoming impossibly tighter with the addition of another member. "Ichigo," Grimmjow choked out through his teeth, his body nearly shaking with the need to move, to push himself deeper into that heat sucking him in.

"Just m-mo- _oh, Kami- _move already!" the orangette hissed, his lithe body trembling.

The two older men grinned, their eyes meeting over Ichigo's shoulder.

Here. We. Go.

The two gang members pulled out until only their heads remained, then thrust up hard, at the same time that Ichigo thrust back against them. Two moans and a scream tore through the room as liquid heat raced through three different men.

Shirosaki's nails dug into a slim, tanned waist, his back arching as that tight heat sucked him in, but Ichigo couldn't complain in the least. Both men's members hit his prostate at the same time on the first thrust, his arms nearly giving out at the intense pleasure ripping through him.

The two men quickly began thrusting into the berry between them, their hips moving in sync, racing desperately toward their release. Ichigo couldn't keep back the screams and moans of ecstasy as the two sexy as sin men pounded into him, each stroke adding more heat to the growing inferno inside him, liquid fire pooling in his belly.

Grimmjow groaned when the orangette tightened dangerously around him, sweat dripping from blue bangs onto the tanned skin of the Vastro Lorde as the smaller man's back arched, the two dicks inside him stabbing ruthlessly at his prostate. The blunette leaned down, latching his lips onto the side of the man's neck, sucking and nipping at the skin until a dark purple mark showed.

Ichigo moaned at the rough treatment to his neck, his hand coming up to tangle in electric blue locks. Shiro watched the display above him, watched Grimmjow seal his lips over the kiss swollen ones of Ichigo, and thrust furiously into the orangette, the sight making his dick throb with need as his orgasm raced toward him. His hand unattached itself from Ichigo's hip, wrapping around the orange haired man's arousal as it bobbed against his toned abdomen, hard and throbbing with his oncoming release. Shiro could tell; the man wouldn't last much longer.

Ichigo tore away from Grimmow's mouth, moaning loudly as Shiro's hand wrapped tightly around his dick, stroking him in time with the two men's thrusts. He could feel the heat in his belly stretched tight, waiting to snap.

"Ichigo, yer so _tight," _Grimmjow purred with a particularly hard thrust, the two men's pace increasing to near brutal. "Yav been clenching aroun' us, like a dirty little cock _slut_," the blunette growled, nipping roughly at the shell of Ichigo's ear before laving over it with his tongue. "You'd just love to come all over Shi's hand, wouldan' ya? To see him lick it up."

_Kami, _Ichigo thought, his back arching, his head falling back in a scream as he was thrown over the edge. He fucking _loved _dirty talk, it turned him on so fucking much, and to have that sinful voice bringing his fantasy to life, no amount of self-restraint could have kept him from doing just what Grimmjow had been talking about.

Hot, sticky ropes of come splattered against Shiro's chest and abdomen, coating his hands with Ichigo's essence. His lithe form trembled between the two men, his body alight with his orgasm as he moaned tiredly with his release.

Grimmjow and Shiro moaned deeply, Ichigo's already constricting heat tightening impossibly, around them as the orangette's release was torn from him, his velvety walls clamping down on them with his orgasm. The two gang members thrust violently into him a few more times before reaching their peak, thrusting deep inside that tight heat before releasing.

Ichigo groaned at the strange sensation, slumping against Shirosaki's sticky chest, his lungs desperately pulling air into his body as his blood started flowing properly again. The two men caught their breath before pulling out, leaving the orangette feeling strangely empty.

Shirosaki slowly sat up, Ichigo clutching sleepily to him, his face buried against his neck. Grimmjow slid off the sticky and warm counter, stumbling over to the couch and collapsing on it while Shiro followed him, a thoroughly sated Ichigo held possessively in his arms. The albino dropped onto the couch next to Grimmjow as the berry stirred in his arms, dazed brown eyes peeking up at him through long black lashes.

The albino smirked and nuzzled the orangette's neck, nipping softly at his jaw in a show of possession. Beside them, a lazy growl rumbled in Grimmjow's chest, narrowed cerulean eyes glaring at them.

"Oi, Snowball," Grimmjow growled, knocking his knee none too gently against Shiro's. "Don' get too comfy there, tha boy's obviously mine."

Ichigo sighed softly, tightening his arms around Shiro's neck. "I don't belong to either of you," he said around a yawn. "It's against the rules to be associated with a gang and w-" Ichigo stopped abruptly, his body tensing in Shiro's lap.

The paler man frowned, tilting the orangette's face up to his as Grimmjow sat up a bit more, his attention now on the orange haired man and the sudden worry in his stance.

"Ichi, was' wrong?" Shiro asked, brow furrowed as he studied the berry's face.

"No, no, no," Ichigo mumbled, pulling himself from Shiro's embrace. "You can't know my name… y-you can't know who I am… you can't be associated with me outside of entertainment…" Ichigo stumbled back, his knees hitting the edge of the stage. He swallowed thickly, suddenly dizzy.

He had seen what had happened to other Vastro Lordes if their name got out. Not only were they kicked out of the club, but both gangs would instantly be after them, believing them to be in association with the other. They would think that they were using their standing to glean information on them and deliver it to the other gang for some form of payment.

And if they were caught, the once Lorde would pay for it with their life.

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><p>Urahara POV<p>

"Welcome, welcome," Urahara chirped out, entering the dimly lit room in a flurry of dark green robes, his wooden clogs sounding hollow against the floor.

"Why are we here?" a smooth voice purred out, emotionless brown eyes staring up at him emotionlessly from his seat in the high backed chair. The monotonous voice belonged to the head of the Espada, Aizen Sousuke. He was a pale man, tall, with wavy brown hair that was constantly slicked back, even though one lock refused to stay put. That was the one act of defiance the man tolerated.

"Ne, Kisuke, ya never call us all here."

Urahara smiled behind his fan, falling back carelessly into his own chair, his gaze sweeping over the room of ten or so gang leaders, ranging from the two highest to the two lowest. All of them operated under the close watch of Urahara-a man with his fingers in everything.

His grin broadened as his eyes fell on the silver haired fox that had spoken, his slitted eyes peering at him through his bangs. That ever present smirk was still poised on his face, a rather unnerving expression that still gave Urahara the slightest of chills.

"Ah, Ichimaru, it would appear that there is a new gang rising through the ranks." Kisuke paused, dropping his fan and tucking it into his robes, his grin gone along with it. "And they are creating quite the stir."

Standing up suddenly, the blonde haired man held his hands behind his back, walking slowly around the table of gang leaders. "In just one week, this gang has decimated a lower gang, wiped out a quarter of the Bounts, and have expressed an obvious interest in the Blanks."

"Mah, mah, someone's been rather busy," Gin purred, leaning back in his chair.

Urahara smirked, the rim of his hat casting his face in shadows as he stopped walking, once more at the head of the table. "Yes, they have. Only there's one problem." Urahara tilted his head to the side, the smirk growing. "No one knows who they are, how big they are, where they are centered, what their sign is, or who their supplier is. All we have," Kisuke paused, meeting each of the gang leaders eyes before stopping on Gin and Aizen's, "is a name."

The tall man stepped back, tossing a photograph on the table for all to see. A brick wall was the main focus, and on that wall, there hung a man. The man's hands and feet were nailed into the wall, chunks of flesh scattered on the ground beneath it, missing from the gruesomely colored corpse. The man's eyeballs had been dug out of his skull, and stuffed into his mouth, his blackened and burnt flesh glistening with drying blood.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Urahara sang cheerfully, flicking his fan open to cover his face, "meet the Arrancar."

* * *

><p>Ichigo POV<p>

"This isn't good," Ichigo moaned, his hands tearing through his hair, tugging at the sunset strands. He shook his head, scrambling to his feet, trying to find a pair of pants to pull on.

"Ne, Ichi, don' do tha'," Shiro said, his voice tinged with worry.

Grimmjow pulled himself to his feet, following the orangette to the bar. "Ichigo, what's wrong?" the blunette asked, grabbing the smaller man's wrist. Ichigo nearly jumped out of his skin, jerking his hand back.

"No! You can't know my name, I'll be fired! I'll be killed!" Ichigo was nearly hysterical, visions of his mother's death floating around his head. He didn't want to be in that position again, and certainly didn't want to see what it felt like to be in his mother's place. Only he knew it wouldn't be as kind a death as his mother's had been.

No, the gang members would make it last, would slowly make him pay for a crime that he had never committed. Ichigo whimpered softly, clutching his head at the gruesome images screaming for attention in his mind. He started shaking his head violently, his knees buckling underneath him.

Grimmjow lurched forward, catching the orangette right before his body connected with the floor, holding him tightly against his chest. "Shh, Ichi," Grimmjow purred, nuzzling his neck comfortingly.

Even though he hadn't known the man long, Grimmjow could tell that this wasn't normal behavior for the orange haired male. He was a fiery young man, strong-headed and stubborn, of course, but he was strong to the core. Obviously, he had been through pain and loss, knew what it felt like, but he used that to his advantage. He built himself up with it, used it to tell himself that things could always be worse.

So what could scare him so much that he would crack so suddenly?

"They can't find out…" Ichigo whispered brokenly, clutching desperately onto Grimmjow, as if he would crumble without him. "They'll think that I-I'm working for you, that I'm passing on information or s-something…"

Grimmjow tightened his arms around the man, gently kissing the smooth skin of his neck. "Don' worry, Ichi. We'll keep you safe. Right now," the blunette murmured, moving over to the couch, "you need to sleep." He chuckled slightly, his blue eyes alight with mirth at the thought of the night's previous activities. "We wore ya out, dinna we?"

Ichigo nodded softly, feeling himself being laid down against a warm, toned body. Without thinking, he relaxed against the pale man, his eyes drooping closed. He really was tired.

Ichigo yawned, curling up tightly against Shiro's side, the albino curling an arm around his waist while Grimmjow sat at the foot of the couch, leaning his head against Shiro's knee. Ichigo sighed softly, twining his fingers through soft, electric blue hair as his eyes drooped closed, his voice a whisper. "They're going to think I'm guilty…" the orangette mumbled, closing his eyes.

Shiro giggled, showing off a wide, razor toothed grin. "Oh Ichi, in this world, everyone is guilty." The albino smirked, feeling the orangette relax against him as those blissful fingers of sleep curled around him.

"Tha only crime is gettin' caught."

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><p><strong>AN: *falls to my knees and kisses your feet* I'm so sorry I made you wait so long for this chapter! I promise though, I will try and have a new chapter out every month. School is finally coming to a close next month so of course the teachers are piling on the homework. But I'm doing my best to write when I can~ Thank you so much once more for all the reviews of the past two chapters! They make me incredibly happy, no matter how short or long they are. And a happy me means faster fingers and more GrimmShiroIchi yumminess~ <strong>

**Ja ne~**


	4. Blood, Guts, and Oatmeal Cookies

**Hello hello all my lovely readers, and may I just start out by wishing you all a **_**very **_**happy and nosebleed filled GrimmIchi Day- a day to celebrate one of the greatest pairings of all time and the death of about 70% of all GrimmIchi readers as the lovely authors of this pairing unleash their full power on us in a wonderful, fluff/smut filled day. Glorious, ne? Favorite day of the year right here~**

**Secondly, I'd like to gift each and every one of you with a box of chocolate covered strawberries in thanks for your wonderful patience and support through these past few months for me. You guys are beyond amazing, and I love each and every one of you more than I can say. Unfortunately, I am unable to do so as I am beyond broke at the moment- however, I will recommend to you Strawberry Shortcake by the wonderful Tiana Misoro for your fill of -*ahem*- chocolate covered strawberries. ;)**

**And finally, enjoy the fourth chapter of Twisted. **

**EDIT/: Sorry for the re-upload! The chapter seemed to have disappeared~ **

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><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: I do not own the animemanga Bleach, nor any of its characters or amazingness- though I hope that if I read it and watch it enough, some of the awesome might rub off on me. Hey, a girl can dream, can't she?**

**WARNING: Rated M for sexual situations in later chapters, including a shit ton of YAOI, BONDAGE, DOUBLE PENETRATION, THREESOMES, and whatever else my messed up perverted mind can cook up. Also, rated M for language. There's gonna be a fair dosage of stupidity, and probably some angst in later chapters.**

**This chapter has been betad by the amazing Black-Rose-177~ Thanks a bunch. Keep calm and scarf on. ;D**

**A **_**huge**_** thanks to my friend, MummyWriter, on deviantART for getting me officially, positively, 100% **_**addicted **_**to Two Door Cinema Club. If you haven't heard of them, I just… have nothing to say to you. They're beyond amazing and I want to have every single piece of music by them ever. *fangirl creep***

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><p>In a few weeks I will get time<br>To realize it's right before my eyes  
>And I can take it if it's what I want to do<p>

I am leaving, this is starting to feel like  
>It's right before my eyes<br>And I can taste it, it's my sweet beginning

And I can tell just what you want  
>You don't want to be alone<br>You don't want to be alone

And I can't say it's what you know  
>But you've known it the whole time,<br>Yeah, you've known it the whole time

Maybe next year I'll have no time  
>To think about the questions to address<br>Am I the one to try to stop the fire?

I wouldn't test you, I'm not the best you could have attained  
>Why try anything?<br>I will get there, just remember I know

And I can tell just what you want  
>You don't want to be alone<br>You don't want to be alone

And I can't say it's what you know  
>But you've known it the whole time<br>Yeah, you've known it the whole time

Two Door Cinema Club "What You Know"

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><p><strong>Twisted<strong>

**Chapter Four:**

**Blood, Guts, and Oatmeal Cookies**

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><p>Ichigo POV<p>

"Ya look like ya just fucked the Grim Reaper," Shinji giggled, ruffling the orangette's hair. "And he was none too happy abou' it."

Ichigo grumbled nonsensically, rooting around the fridge for a bottle of orange juice. Shinji had gotten him hooked on the stuff - the blond went through orange juice like an addict went through cash. He even had a bottle hidden in the bar at the club for those times when he needed the extra sugar boosts during his shifts. He sure as fuck couldn't use alcohol, if last night was any indication.

Color flooded his cheeks at the thought of drinking. Last night -er, this morning- was a perfect example of why he shouldn't drink at work. Too much had happened in that relatively short amount of time. Not to mention, he had lost so much sense from just a few shots. He had lost his virginity, had given up his name (and quite possibly, in the same breath, his life), and he was pretty sure his dignity, if any of those lusty moans he remembered hearing had been his.

_Ten in the morning was far too early to be dealing with this shit. _

Pulling out the clear bottle, the sweet, orange liquid plashing against the sides, Ichigo hurriedly unscrewed the top, placing the rim against his lips and tilting his head back. The acidic taste burned the back of his throat this soon after waking up, but he didn't care, chugging several more mouthfuls before setting the bottle down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Thanks, Shin. It's so nice to have a friend like you to make me feel good about myself," Ichigo drawled, the words dripping with sarcasm. His best friend grinned, his piano key teeth gleaming from meticulous care. Where Ichigo was a more subdued gay, Shinji was beyond flaming. And that meant that every single aspect of his outfit had to be perfect; especially his smile.

"Anytime, Ginger."

Ichigo rolled his eyes, opening the slim door of the tall cupboard next to the fridge, pulling out a box of Cocoa Pebbles, a secret love of his. Shinji knew how much Ichigo's rather disruptive hair color annoyed him, and the lanky blonde took every chance he could to tease him about it.

Ichigo tipped the box back as he held it to his mouth, the sweetened pieces dropping lightly onto his tongue, filling his nose with the sweet scent of chocolate. Choosing to ignore the comment, Ichigo padded into the main room in his flat, dropping onto one of the couches as he grabbed the remote off of a small glass table next to him. Six hundred and ninety square inches of light flickered to life at the touch of a button, the black rimmed screen hung on the exposed brick wall opposite the couch the orangette was sprawled out on.

The forty inch plasma had not been Ichigo's idea, rather a gift forced on him by his father after a particularly good year at his rapidly growing hospital. The old man had wanted to help his only son as much as possible, but Ichigo had fought vehemently against having his father pay for more than ninety-five percent of his college education and experience. He had worked his ass off to make it here and he wasn't about to stop as soon as cash needed to be dished out.

All things considered, Isshin Kurosaki was a pretty good dad - obsession with his deceased wife aside. He was a wackadoo at best and a complete and utter embarrassment at worst, but he had never let his three children starve or go cold. He always made sure that they were healthy and even went the extra step to make sure that they were happy. At least, as happy as a boy who had witnessed his own mother's death could be.

Shinji slid onto the couch by Ichigo's feet, the orangette instinctively settling his feet onto the blonde's lap. They were like brothers, really, more comfortable than most friends will ever be. Maybe it was because they had been through so much together, or maybe just because of how long they had known each other. Whatever it was, it was there for good.

Smiling absently at the thought, Ichigo glanced at the screen. The news was on, currently broadcasting a kind faced woman with long black hair braided in front of her. Subtitles scrolled jerkily across the bottom of the screen, the white on black text replacing the woman's voice.

_**-believed to be twenty years of age, with brown hair and blue eyes. No identification was found on the body and no one has stepped forward with any information on what took place here last night. Police believe this to be gang related and a part of the recent chain of murders. **_

A man flashed on the screen, a pale hand holding a black microphone up to him. He was obviously a police officer judging by his clothing, his face gruff and depicting the customary remorse that all officers wore.

"_**Judging by the state of the body, this is related to the rest of the murders. While we've yet to narrow it down to a specific gang, or what association the man had, we have our best people on the job and are getting closer every day. We strongly urge you to lock your doors at night and don't walk down any blackened alleys. As long as you do this and execute usual precautions, we are all as safe as we want to b-"**_

The man's hardened face turned into some woman rambling on about the latest salad spinner model as Ichigo quickly changed the channel, his fingers stiff on the remote. Flicking through random channels, Ichigo finally settled on a random anime he didn't even know the name of. It didn't matter though, he wasn't watching it. He just needed to get away from the news broadcast. Shinji glanced at him out of the corner of his eye in worry, his feet propped up on the coffee table, before his brown eyes flicked back to the screen.

Ichigo's mind was elsewhere, not paying attention to what the 'hero' of the anime was doing as he flickered in and out of the screen.

When Ichigo had woken up this morning, the two men that had been with him earlier had gone, leaving nothing but a broken man and a still glowing butt of a cigarette. The tenderness of the shark and the albino from mere hours before had vanished, leaving Ichigo to dress and sneak out of the soon-to-be-closed club alone.

Not that he minded, Ichigo had told himself as he'd pushed through the steel back doors of the club, his sweatshirt wrapped around himself as if the material would keep out the chill that had already settled inside him.

It had been the most nerve wracking two minute walk to his car of his life.

He had gotten home around five in the morning and dropped into bed, ignoring the two men tangled up on the couch in the living room. He knew that Nnoitra would be gone by the time he woke up while Shinji stayed behind to share the gossip that had surely taken root as a result of Ichigo's disappearing act.

Proving Ichigo's hypothesis, the blond had his mouth open and everything, ready to start the onslaught of fabricated information when the orangette had poked his head above the covers just past seven, his hair the equivalent of a bird's nest, his eyes ringed with dark circles, and hickeys dotting his neck. When Ichigo's bleary brown eyes had locked with his in a glare that spelled death, Shinji had snapped his mouth shut and retreated quickly to let the man sleep for a little while longer.

But, of course, after four blissful hours of nothingness, the knowledge that his life could very well end in the next few days was back at full force, the knowledge only reaffirmed by the news broadcast, the woman's solemn face as she talked about the murder, too gruesome for broadcasting, still fresh in his mind.

_That could be you tomorrow, _his mind whispered to him, icy fingers of fear probing at his temples, further provoking the dull throb that had already taken residence there. _Hidden behind a body bag, too messed up to be seen. You fucked up, big time, and nothing can save you now. _

It's just a name, Ichigo argued back, his face pulling into his customary scowl. It's not like I gave them my address or phone number. Besides, how many people in Japan are named Ichigo?

The little voice in his mind cackled, sending shivers down Ichigo's spine. It was a disturbing thing - knowing that your own mind didn't believe you anymore.

_They know where you work. With that one thing and your name, they can get their hands on your file. In five seconds flat, they can know your height, your weight, your social security number; all of it. They can sniff you out, Ichigo, and there's nothing you can do. _

Those permafrost fingers slid down his spine, his eyes not even registering the silver haired hero slicing through demon after demon on the TV screen as those icy touches twined around his bones, dipping into his organs and pulling out his bravery.

_Bravery, _his mind spat in disgust. _Bravery is the kindest word for stupidity, _it whispered to him - taunted him.

There was a dull roar in his ears. His head suddenly felt heavy, so heavy. His tongue was stapled to the roof of his mouth, his body freezing on the inside as it those icy flames licked deeper.

This wasn't like him. Ichigo Kurosaki did not give up. Not ever. So why was he here, about to pass out at just the mention of death?

"-chigo!" Shinji yelled, waving his hands in front of his zoned out best friend.

Blinking his suddenly confused brown eyes, Ichigo shook his head as if the movement would throw the probing voice into the back corner of his thoughts. He had completely spaced out, and apparently his best friend had been vying for his attention for the past few minutes, if his agitated expression was anything to go by. "Er, sorry, Shin. I guess I kinda…"

"Completely spaced out leaving me to fend for myself in this cold, unforgiving world?" Shinji declared dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. "Who knows what could have happened in the past twenty minutes? I could have drowned, could have starved to death and you-" Shinji jabbed a finger at Ichigo's chest, glaring at him "-would have been none the wiser."

Despite his moment of terror mere minutes before, Ichigo felt a small smile tugging at his lips at his best friend's dramatic outburst. Leave it to Shinji to make the most outlandish outcomes out of such mundane situations.

Ichigo peeled himself from the couch, Shinji hot on his heels as the orangette padded into the kitchen, practically throwing the box of cereal in the cupboard. Still slightly rattled from his previous conversation with himself, Ichigo was forced to admit to himself that his inner… voice… did have some good points. No matter how much the realization did leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

More cackling from said voice.

The orangette rolled his eyes, trying his best to ignore himself. Geeze, since when am I so annoying? And more importantly, what was he doing having a conversation with some voice in his mind about how he was going to be gutted and strung up? It was ridiculous. He wasn't going to die.

"So…" Shinji dragged the sound out, propping his chin on his hand. The sound dragged Ichigo from his musings, his chocolate orbs flashing to his friend's. "Are you gonna tell me or just let me decide for myself what happened last night? 'Cause I have no problem _at all _deciding for myself." The blonde licked his lips deviously, a smirk pulling at them. "Nell and I were having quite a bit of fun taking bets on how many times the three of you did the dirty las-"

Ichigo slapped a hand over his best friend's mouth, a rare blush staining his cheeks as his nose wrinkled- rather adorably in Shinji's opinion. The blond just flashed the orangette a devious grin, long fingers wrapping around Ichigo's wrist and easily pulling his hand down.

"Mmm, so we _were_ on the right path with that assumption." Shinji pulled his legs up onto the stool, leaning forward eagerly, his fluffy pink slippers tapping against Shinji's heels as he eagerly awaited more information. If the blond man had a tail, Ichigo swore it would have broken the sound barrier by now.

"Spill, now. I want to hear everything- and so help me God, if you leave one thing out, I will sneak into your room at night and dye your hair fucking cotton candy pink," Shinji declared, glaring menacingly at his friend. "I want every single microscopic detail. You lost your fucking virgin-" Shinji stopped, holding up a hand as he closed his eyes.

"Hold on a second." His best friend took a deep breath. His eyes snapped open, a piano toothed grin stretching across his face as he lunged at the orangette, wrapping his skinny arms around Ichigo's neck in a surprisingly tight hug. "_You lost your fucking virginity to two of the hottest men in all of Karakura!" _Shinji squealed, his feet kicking, tail wagging.

"Omigod, I totally didn't think of that until now! I mean, I _so _should have, I mean, Nell and I were going on and on and on about you three last night but I guess it didn't really strike me until now that you were still a virgin and oh my _god _we were absolutely _shocked _when Shirosaki, the sexy as sin pale guy, was at the bar while you were in the back room and by then an hour had gone by so I got all worried about what had happened that had made the two of them leave but then I couldn't find the blue haired guy… Grimmjow? … anywhere in the club so I asked Shirosaki what had happened and he was totally surprised. Said he had no idea, and then he went into the back room and I guess things turned out alright because here you are now, all in one piece, but you just said that you _did _do the dirty because, I know you, you don't blush for _any _reason except for when it comes to sex so obviously it has something to do with that so that leaves only two options, one, the two Abercrombie models did it with each other, I mean, don't get me wrong, how _hawt _would that be, I wonder who would be on top between the two of them? Then option number two which is that you three had a threesome and that is just-" Shinji made a weird sound that was a cross between a peacock and a squeal as he rambled on (something about sex and oatmeal cookies), sitting on his knees in the barstool.

Ichigo stared at the floor, color drained from his face, his eyes blank.

_Holy fuck. He had just lost his virginity to two men he had met for maybe thirty seconds. _

Way to fucking go, Ichigo.

Shinji had finally stopped gushing to him and was now sitting eagerly, nearly bouncing in his seat as he stared expectantly at the orangette. Not gaining the orangette's attention after two minutes of intense staring, Shinji sighed dramatically, picking up the first thing he touched - a banana - and chucked it at his friend's hung head.

Ichigo yelped at the sudden pain, jumping as the offending fruit fell harmlessly to the floor. He glared at the blond, the heat in his gaze quickly being replaced when he saw the blonde's expression.

Groaning, Ichigo slumped against the counter, knowing it was pointless to try and argue his way out of telling his best friend. Shinji had _that _look, the one that spelled death for all who didn't give him what he wanted.

Ichigo swore under his breath, running a hand roughly through his hair. Ten in the morning was far too early for this shit.

* * *

><p>Grimmjow POV<p>

"Fucker," Grimmjow growled, lunging at the other man, bloodlust written plainly across his face.

Long limbs moved quickly out of the way as the blue haired beast jumped at him, the black haired man holding his hands up in a mock surrender as a wide grin stretched across pale features. "Oi, don' get pissy with me. You've fucked tha kid, what more do you want?"

Nnoitra had taunted him with the fact that Ichigo's life was at stake now that not one, but two gang members knew who he was, and that did not go over well with Grimmjow. Not that Grimmjow was _attached _to the kid, he just didn't want those dirty Hollow's hands on his property.

Yeah, Grimmjow knew what happened when a Vastro Lorde's name got out - he had heard tales about the crime scene after they were found by one gang or another. But if Grimmjow was honest with himself, he really didn't want to see that pretty freckled face stapled to the brick wall of some alley. Not that he'd ever say it out loud.

Despite his desires, however, it was entirely probable that The Hollows would get to him first. Grimmjow knew that Ichigo was unknown throughout the rival gang, as he was when it came to the Espada, so if the opposing gang got to the tangerine first, they would most likely be painting the sidewalk with that lovely cream skin.

And if that bastard, Shirosaki, had anything to say about the outcome of the ginger, he wouldn't be killed, but turned into a sex slave for the second in command's personal use.

The same thing went for if the Espada found him first, however. No one knew of the orangette, so if word got out that the Vastro Lorde was playing for the Hollows, Hell would break loose. And despite his position, he would have little say in whether the berry lived or died. Either way, the Lorde - Ichigo, the tangerine had muttered so sultrily the night before - was in harm's way.

Grimmjow glared at Nnoitra, fists tightening at his sides. After that little analysis, the second in command was in even less of a mood to discuss the berry.

The violet gazed man raked his one good eye over the blue haired man, the other hidden behind long black hair. He was clearly trying to find out what had the cerulean eyed man so on edge when it came to the topic of the ginger. He obviously wasn't in love with the man - Grimmjow didn't love. So what was it? Just some infatuation with orange hair?

Then it hit him. Grimmjow may not love anyone, but he could certainly be a possessive son of a bitch.

Throwing his head back, Nnoitra cackled, his wiry body trembling with the force of it. "You're not _seriously _throwin' a hissy fit 'cause Shirosaki wants 'im too, are ya?"

Wiping nonexistent tears from his eye, the black haired fucker leered down at him, waggling his eyebrows. "Well isn' that fucking _cute? _Grimmy-kin's gotten rather possessive of his little toy."

Nnoitra almost missed the kick aimed at his gut, but Grimmjow was faster, managing to clip the taller man's hip in what turned out to be a rather painful shot, if the taller man's scowl had anything to do with it.

Glaring at his best friend, Grimmjow growled low in his throat. No one called him cute. "I ain't protective, I jus' don't want that albino bastard to have what's rightfully _mine."_

Another grin from Nnoitra. "Tha's called being possessive."

The only reason the lanky fucker's face wasn't being ground into the floor at this point was because he was Grimmjow's best friend. Had any other person _dared _to speak to him like that, Grimmjow would have shown him why he was second in command.

"Shut tha fuck up. Ya got laid last night, why're ya bein such a dick?" Grimmjow growled, unable to keep the grin off his face. Only Nnoi could tease him and not have his face shredded.

Well, Nnoi and the ginger…

_A slim, tan finger crooked, beckoning Grimmjow closer, molten brown eyes devious. The blue haired man stumbled forward as if pulled by an invisible tether. The orange haired man ghosted his lips across the man's jaw, long fingers slipping into the belt loops of the taller man's jeans. _

"_See that?" the ginger purred, his tongue tracing the shell of the man's ear. "I just made you come with one finger." _

Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ Grimmjow chanted in his head, feeling the boy's hand trace along the sharp v of his hips, the other pulling his zipper down tantalizingly slowly. _

" _Imagine what I could do with a whole hand."_

Long fingers snapped sharply in his face, the scowling face of his best friend serving as a backdrop for the hand.

"What?" Grimmjow growled, shoving the offending limb out of his face. Grimmjow had zoned out momentarily at that little fantasy. _Kami, that tangerine was potent. One night and Grimmjow was already addicted. _

His best friend of nearly eight years only grinned in response, turning and collapsing into the worn out couch of Grimmjow's apartment. "It's fine, you don have to tell me what caused that blush of yours."

Grimmjow glared at the toothpick of a man, a growl rumbling in his chest at the grin that stayed plastered on the black haired man's face. His features were long and slim, much like his body that stretched just over seven feet.

Long limbs and even longer black hair that hid half of his face, completely covering his left eye, not to mention a tongue that better belonged on a demon it was so long. Nnoitra tended to flash his tongue now and then when he taunted the blue haired gang member, the five that had been tattooed on it glaring at him.

Grimmjow grumbled to himself as he grabbed the remote off of the fucked up coffee table, the wood gouged and stained. The blue haired gang member dropped onto the couch on the opposite side of his friend, glaring at the TV screen as the news broadcast flickers to life.

Started out on a shitty couch, still there today.

Nnoitra and Grimmjow had known each other for more than twenty years, had started out in an orphanage together. _Yeah, yeah, cheesy as fuck,_ but that was the way it was and Grimmjow was nothing if not an honest man.

Most of the time.

Right after his birth, Grimmjow's mother had dumped him on his alcoholic of a father - the skank probably off with some fat ass, rich bastard in Cuba. He had been forced to grow up with only his dad as a parental figure, and, by default, his only relationship.

Yeah, that 'father-son relationship' hadn't lasted long.

Dropping him at the first door he saw once Grimmjow had turned four, just old enough in his dad's opinion to fend for himself, Grimmjow never saw his dad again. Not that he minded - all he remembered from his time with his father was the constant smell of alcohol and sleeping on a bed of glass bottles.

The family that had been graced with his rather frightening form had freaked out at the sight of the already scarred, scrawny, blue-haired kid, immediately throwing him in some orphanage he couldn't remember the name of. Again, that setting didn't last long.

After just over five years, Grimmjow took his chance and broke out of the orphanage, along with the gangly black haired kid with violet-grey eyes that he had run into on his way down the hall. Grimmjow knew, even at that age, that when people had information, they cracked. And when people cracked, others learned things they shouldn't. And Grimmjow really didn't want that jacked up orphanage after him so soon after his freedom.

As soon as the two misfit runaways had made it a distance they deemed far enough, they had gone opposite ways, not looking back once. Not saying goodbye, not even exchanging names. Just leaving.

Over the course of the next few years, Grimmjow never once took a handout from an orphanage or family. He was learning how to live on the streets – that's where he wanted to make his name. He wasn't going to be some pussy that depended on others for his survival. No way. He was done with that.

He grew stronger, faster - street-smart. He never ventured too far, however, knowing that he needed to first learn the ropes before he branched out.

So he had waited. Puberty hit and his scrawny form changed. He had grown taller and filled out a bit more, his chicken bone legs becoming stronger, longer. His voice got deeper and he got a job. Started earning some cash. And as he got stronger, he earned himself a name.

_Pantera._

Grimmjow had quickly gone from being a lump in a trashcan to a name whispered behind hands. Everyone feared him. Everyone knew who he was, what he looked like. What he had done.

How many people he had killed.

Grimmjow had quickly grown tired of the constant beatings from the neighborhood kids that thought they were the stuff gang legends were made of. So when Grimmjow started growing - and didn't stop - he made sure to live up to his new height.

He made sure he became the gang legends those kids thought they were.

He made sure they realized how wrong they were.

_He has blood smeared under his eyes, so cold it's turned blue. _

_He gets drunk off of tears and high off of blood. _

_Pantera. _

_Pantera. _

_Pantera._

Pantera knew how to survive. He knew that you needed to be cutthroat to live to see day or two. The Espada liked him for that.

After nearly a year of getting their 'advertisers' sent back in pieces, Grimmjow finally agreed to join the street gang that had been lusting after him for so long. The second he was welcomed into the gang, he knew he had made the right decision. Cutthroat as he may be, everyone yearned for a family.

Pantera never thought of the gangly black haired guy with the weird violet-grey eyes again.

Eight years later, though, Grimmjow did think of him.

Nnoitra had been getting his ass beaten by a team of about four members of The Hollows. Nnoitra had gotten on their bad side - the lanky man had never explained exactly what he had done - and this was their way of getting the point across.

Grimmjow had almost passed it off as he walked past the alleyway as just some group of kids beating down another to build themselves up. But when the fifteen year old had been pinned down, still kicking, and one of the guys pulled a knife and attempted to cut into the younger guy's eye, Grimmjow had snapped. He had been living on the streets for just over five years, had learned how to hold his own in a fight even with his lack of strength.

Sneaking up behind the obviously least experienced of the group, Grimmjow had hit his neck in just the right place, causing the man to drop to the ground like a sack of concrete. _That _had certainly gained the attention of the other members.

The Hollows had sent their newer members after the fifteen-year-old - one of them looking barely even fourteen - obviously not expecting a fight.

Grimmjow had certainly changed that.

Grimmjow had lunged at the two other members that had gone after them, a bit hesitantly if anything. While he was quickly dealing with the two of them, the third man had jerked Nnoitra's head back and had brutally carved five lines down the left side of the man's face, the blade cutting deep into his eye.

Grimmjow had never heard someone scream like that.

In the mere minute it took to pound the other two into the dust, the third gang member had snuck off, another job completed. Grimmjow had slung the passed out man over his shoulder and ran him to the nearest Espada bunker, knowing that the kid needed help.

That's when their friendship began.

They had quickly learned of their previous contact ("No way in hell would I forget hair _that _fucking blue," Nnoitra had declared) and had grown together, both as brothers and physically, in Nnoitra's case. The man quickly grew, clearing two feet in the space of four years- a rather tiring feat, Grimmjow sympathized with him.

But, despite Grimmjow's constant nagging, Nnoitra had never joined the Espada.

"I don't want to be involved in anythin' that sends fourteen year olds after kids so they can dissect a human eyeball," he had spat, his disgust at even the thought of it clear on his face. Grimmjow had dropped the subject. He knew that his friend meant business, and Grimmjow wouldn't do something so painful as to force him to join.

Despite not joining the gang, Nnoitra learned to fight, too. Learned how to protect himself, and in the same breath, how to protect others. Nnoi was a fighter- that was for sure- but despite his rough appearance, he was not one to go searching for conflict.

Grimmjow grinned. He, unfortunately, was not the same.

"Oi," Grimmjow purred, one of his over-sharp canines pressing against the skin of his lower lip as a shark-grin tore across his face. "'ows your little blond bitch doin?" Grimmjow had seen the blondie around - Nnoi had even taken him to their place for a fuck a time or two - and he knew how to push all the right buttons when it came to their relationship.

Nnoitra leered at him, never one to back down from such obvious taunting from his best friend. "Ready to beat your ginger's weak ass inta the ground any time."

Grimmjow laughed, the sound rough. "I don't know bout that, my Berry's a fighter." Even as little as Grimmjow knew of the tangerine, he knew that he could hold his own. The muscle he had seen on that lithe body and the grace in his movements could attest to that. "Think he'd be the one kickin your pear's ass inta next week."

"Oh yeah?" Nnoitra asked, cracking his neck, a grin pulling at his lips once more. He wasn't a guy to seek out fights, but far be it from him to back down from a challenge when his Shinji's strength was called into question.

Running the tip of his tongue across the sharp edge of his teeth, Grimmjow cracked his knuckles, the same shit-eating grin plastered on his features. He was in the mood for a good fight.

* * *

><p>Leaving without so much as appraising their work, light footsteps skittered against the concrete path. There was no need to cherish the gruesomeness of the work. They would be hearing plenty about it the next day.<p>

That was one of the things they loved about their work. How praised they were when they were successful. Suppressing a shiver at the pleasant thought, footsteps halted as a hand grasped a metal handle, pulling softly to release a soft click.

The smooth leather stuck to slightly sweaty skin, but they didn't mind. It was a common occurrence for them - normal even. Each time, they would get into the car and have to peel their self off at the end of the drive, leaving behind blood and sweat.

_Oh but how delicious it was, seeing the blood smeared across the white leather, like roses in the snow. _They'd love to see it one day - the way blood looks in the snow. And if the chill in the air had anything to say about it, they would have their chance.

No words were spoken between the two passengers, one content with silence as they reviewed their work, the other filled with a quiet confidence, knowing that the other would have sooner cut off their own head than report back with a failed mission. Had they done so, their head would have ended up on the floor anyway.

That was the way these jobs worked. It started with two and ended with one, regardless of who was left standing.

That was the way they had been taught.

That was the way they lived.

Half an hour of silence ended as the door was opened by a faceless man, the only sound the soft click of the door as it opened to allow the passengers out. Silk rippled across the seat as the first got out, and then followed the second, leaving tears of blood behind.

Two pairs of feet walked down the tiled hall. Two hands opened the gleaming metal doors. One pair of feet stepped onto the plush carpet and stopped as the owner bowed; the only sound that of the doors closing behind them.

"Show me."

The voice danced across their skin and seeped into their bones, leaving trembles in their wake. But they were used to it, taught to show no weakness. Trembling meant weakness, and weakness meant death.

Two feet began moving once more as their owner straightened and walked quickly forward, a slim hand outstretched toward the voice.

Long, thin fingers plucked the glossy rectangle from a pale hand, the other not noticing it as their head was still bowed toward the floor.

Eyes made of cruelness and coffee stains glanced at the colors on the photo, a small smirk pulling at thin lips. What a lovely picture. Burn and battered, dissected and torn, the body was beautiful. And the way the blood smeared across the pale skin of the corpse-

It looked like roses in the snow.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh. My. Waffles. It has been <strong>_**far **_**too long since I sat down and wrote. And might I just say, who the fuck just murdered another guy? O-o or, I guess we could also ask, who was the guy that said murderer killed? BUHMBUHMBUHM. I wanna hear your thoughts. **

**Just a quick little announcement, I will be leaving for Hawaii on the 30****th**** this month and will be staying there, without my computer or means of writing, for sixteen days. That puts us at the 16****th**** of July at the earliest for me to upload chapter five. SO, here's what I wanna know. Do you want me to upload the chapter **_**before **_**or **_**after **_**I get back? Completely up to you guys. ;D **

**Reviews are the money for Grimmjow to buy toys to use with Ichi, so reviewreviewreview! Grimmy needs to buy some presents for Ichi's birthday next month, and we don't want our poor berry to go unhappy on such a special day, now do we? ;D**


	5. Blackened Fingerprints

**Hello once more, my lovelies! I'm uploading this literally as I throw stuff into my carry on as a –literally- last second packing for my vacation. Ah yes, tonight is my last night of peace before just under 24 hours if I'm lucky. Anyone care to join me in my hell? Anyone? Just barely scratched this out in time to glance over it for a quick grammar and spelling check- yes, this **_**is **_**unbetad, sorry for any blatant mistakes . - and upload it before jumping in the shower and going to bed for a couple hours a sleep before my 5:30 am rise time tomorrow. **

**I'll admit, despite my relatively early start on this chapter, it took me forever and a day to sit down and finish it. However, this will be the end of updates for the next 17 days at least, though I **_**will **_**be taking a journal with me on my vacation to start on chapter 6. I apologize for the last second release, as this chapter was a little difficult to get through after the drain of packing and preparing for my trip. **

**Woop! We get to see what in the literal hell Shi was up to last chapter! We also get a little more of a look into the bottomless void that is Shirosaki Ogihci. I just hope that I don't lose a shit ton of readers at the end of this due to two aspects of it. ^^'**

**Oh how I'll miss you all more than words can say as I'm out, frolicking with turtles ((*totally **_**obsessed**_** with turtles* =^=)) drawing on the beach, and writing on the balcony beneath the stars. I love you all more than is probably healthy, so why don't we just get married? All of us. So that you can all come with me to Hawaii and together we can write smut filled oneshots. Now **_**that **_**sounds like a vacation. ((P.S. Anyone interested in a Surfer!Grimmjow Tourist!Ichigo oneshot? I had that idea a couple days ago and it seems to have stuck, and with the whole Hawaii trip and all that shit… whatever. Lemme know, yeah?))**

* * *

><p><strong>DISCLAIMER: You guys just love making me suffer… *dramatic sigh* I don't own the mangaanime Bleach, nor do I own any of the characters featured in the series. Happy now? *grumbles angrily to myself* **

**WARNING: Rated M for sexual situations in later chapters, including a shit ton of YAOI, BONDAGE, DOUBLE PENETRATION, THREESOMES, and whatever else my messed up perverted mind can cook up. Also, rated M for language. There's gonna be a fair dosage of stupidity, and probably some angst in later chapters.**

**This chapter is dedicated to the beyond amazing purestrawberryinsanity, my partner in crime, my soul mate, and the most amazing person ever who brings me gifts when I'm going to Hawaii and feeds me when I go to her house. **

**Enjoy, my lovelies~**

* * *

><p>As He Came Into The Window<br>It Was The Sound Of A  
>Crescendo<br>He Came Into Her Apartment  
>He Left The Bloodstains On<br>The Carpet  
>She Ran Underneath The Table<br>He Could See She Was Unable  
>So She Ran Into The Bedroom<br>She Was Struck Down, It Was  
>Her Doom!<p>

Annie Are You Ok  
>So, Annie Are You Ok<br>Are You Ok, Annie  
>Annie Are You Ok<br>So, Annie Are You Ok  
>Are You Ok, Annie<br>Annie Are You Ok  
>So, Annie Are You Ok<br>Are You Ok, Annie  
>Annie Are You Ok<br>So, Annie Are You Ok, Are You Ok, Annie

So They Came Into The Outway  
>It Was Sunday-What A Black Day<br>Every time I tried to find him  
>He's Leaving no clues left behind him<br>And he had no way of knowing  
>of the suspect or what to expect<br>Mouth To Mouth Resuscitation  
>Sounding Heartbeats Intimidations...<p>

Annie Are You Ok  
>So, Annie Are You Ok<br>Are You Ok Annie  
>Annie Are You Ok<br>So, Annie Are You Ok  
>Are You Ok Annie<br>Annie Are You Ok  
>So, Annie Are You Ok<br>Are You Ok Annie

Heee!  
>(Annie Are You Ok)<br>I Don't Know!  
>(Will You Tell Us, That<br>You're Ok)  
>I Don't Know!<br>(There's A Sign In The  
>Window)<br>I Don't Know!  
>(That He Struck You-A<br>Crescendo Annie)  
>I Don't Know!<br>(He Came Into Your  
>Apartment)<br>Dad Gone It!  
>(Left Bloodstains On The<br>Carpet)  
>Hoo! Hoo! Hoo!<br>(Then You Ran Into The  
>Bedroom)<br>Dad Gone It!  
>(You Were Struck Down)<br>(It Was Your Doom-Annie!)  
>Ow!<p>

Michael Jackson "Smooth Criminal"

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><p><strong>Twisted <strong>

**Chapter 5**

**Blackened Fingerprints**

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><p>Shiro POV<p>

Shiro wanted to vomit.

The feeling of his navy stained tongue flattened against sweaty skin was sickening to him, never mind the taste of it.

Closing his eyes, Shiro focused on making sure the woman was unaware of what was really going on. Yes, he had met her at a bar, and yes he had seduced her, and yes a married woman was currently pinned beneath him on her own bed, but this was no act of lust on Shirosaki's part. This was a job.

He was used to them at this point- he didn't get to be a second in command by sitting around on his ass all day. He was constantly pushing for more work, more jobs, more ways to move up in the ranks. He had an extremely competitive nature. He'd been sent on hunting missions, warning deliveries, recruiting missions. This, unfortunately, just happened to be one of the jobs he was sent on most often.

Even as a higher-up, Shiro still got some of the lower level jobs. Not that he normally minded. These types of jobs never really sickened him this much, even with his sexual orientation. It was revolting on a normal day, absolutely, but for some reason, it was even more nauseating this time.

_Because it isn't the Berry..._

The words danced around the cavern of his head, ricocheting off of the walls with annoying metallic clangs that were impossible to ignore. They mocked him, throwing the truth he had yet to admit to himself straight in his face. They coaxed a growl from his throat, making the woman below him moan wantonly, obviously the sound of rage as a growl of desire.

_Slut. _

Black nailed fingers wrapped around a slim throat, feeling the cartilage rings flexing beneath his light grasp as his tongue was replaced by nipping teeth. Another gasp, followed by fingers running through ashen locks, pulling his mouth closer. He hated women. They were clingy and needy and selfish, and tasted _terrible._ Like stale water and cat piss.

He had never understood why men liked women. All they did was bitch and complain during the day and then bitch and complain and moan in bed. It was annoying to Shiro, only adding to his natural attraction to men.

Not to mention, women were always so soft. If he was forced to be pressed against a sweaty human, he'd much rather it be a chiseled, sexy, _fuck-me-or-I'll-fuck-you _eyed man. Not some panting ho who thought that the wider their legs spread the more attractive they'd be, exactly like the woman beneath him now.

_Whore. _

Biting down harshly on the woman's neck, Shiro tried to focus once more on the task at hand. The sooner he got through with it, the sooner he could go home and sleep for days on end. Pulling on the collar of the woman's tight leather dress, Shiro's hand slid down her side, pushing her body down onto the mattress. Making sure the bitch beneath him was fully distracted as his teeth moved lower down her chest and her hips thrust wantonly against his, the woman didn't notice as his hand left her body, slipping into the back of his jeans.

Shiro may hate the foreplay, but the main course was always _decadent._

Pale fingers wound around the handle of his knife, a beautiful piece of steel with a wicked edge that he spent hours cleaning until it shined. It had been a welcoming present from the gang after he had proved himself worthy, the skull burnt into the butt of the hilt a sign of the respect he had gained among the other members. The blade was just over half a foot long with a curved tip that worked perfectly when it came to peeling skin away from muscle and muscle away from bone. He loved his baby, and he loved what she did even more. As far as he was concerned, she was the only woman in his life.

Slowly pulling the blade out of its leather sheath he kept hidden inside his jeans against his hip, he slowly tilted the woman's head back, his hand tightening to a near painful hold around her snappable neck.

And oh how Shiro wanted to press down just a little harder, feel those flexible rings shudder and break, feel the blood in her veins pressing into his fingers until he cut around the outline of his hand, letting out the pressured liquid as her life literally slipped between his fingers. Malicious thoughts unknown to the adulterer beneath him, the bitch did nothing more than whimper softly, obviously mistaking the potentially deadly position as a sign of dominance from him.

Shiro would have laughed at the delicious thought of cutting through those rings protecting her windpipe, letting the flesh peel away until only her unprotected spine was left if only the feeling of the woman grinding against him weren't so repulsive.

With her eyes closed and hair covering the upper half of her face, the woman missed the sight of a crazed grin stretching across snowy features, moonlight glinting off of wickedly sharp teeth.

Cool steel brushed across pink stained skin, yet the woman did little more than pause briefly in her sluttish writhing, obviously passing the cool feeling off as the albino's tongue. Shiro always found that part amusing- the way they never even opened their eyes to see the instrument he'd soon be using to dissect them.

"Open yer eyes, _bella," _Shirosaki purred, his lips pressed against the sensitive skin just below the woman's ear, the Italian word flowing off his tongue like silk. Even with his distorted voice, the word sounded beautiful, just as its meaning suggested.

Dull brown eyes surrounded by heavily caked on makeup peered up at him, a salacious smirk pulling at plump lips. The lust in those muddy eyes quickly burned into a look of alcohol fueled terror as Shiro flashed the blade at her, tracing the tip almost lazily down the length of her nose, purring happily at the sound of steel against bone as the woman opened her mouth to let out a scream.

_Tsk_ing softly, Shiro pressed his fingers against the corners of her jaw, forcing her mouth to open wide. Pressing the hooked tip of the blade against the back of her twitching tongue, the albino leaned closer, brushing his nose against her cheek.

"Make one sound an' I'll cut yer tongue out an' shove it up yer pussy, understan'?" The cutting words seemed out of place when companied with the soft tone of his voice, much like one would use when talking to a child.

The woman's eyes widened almost comically, tears streaming down cheeks made of more blush than skin. Shiro merely chuckled, digging his knife into the soft flesh of her tongue and pulling it toward the tip, wicked grin tearing across his face at the sight of blood dripping down the back of the woman's throat as her tongue was slowly split in two.

Mud brown eyes rolled back in their sockets, a blood choked scream bubbling from her throat as her arms and legs thrashed wildly in a weak attempt to throw him off. Shiro's lips pulled into a pout at her, sighing softly.

"Ya really can't follow orders, can ya?" Shiro sighed almost sadly, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Ah well. We'll jus' have ta' fix tha' little flaw, now won' we?"

Pushing the woman's head back roughly against the bed, forcing her mouth to remain open, Shiro slid the tip of his blade under her tongue, cutting through muscles and skin as blood continued to fill her mouth and throat.

"Ya see, yav' been fuckin' with some very importan' people lately, and they've gotten upset witcha," the albino explained in an almost offhanded way, watching as he slowly cut the still twitching muscle from the woman's mouth. "So, ma boss sent me ta deal with ya."

Shiro chuckled, tracing the bloodied tip of the edge around her tongue, cutting easily through the thick muscle. The woman continued crying and attempting to scream, mascara running down her face in blackened rivulets.

Shiro smirked at the sight of the blood mingling with the salty mascara tracks, creating a lovely dark red curtain draped across her neck and staining the bed sheets beneath her. Shiro had been sent to deliver a message, and deliver it he would. He was, after all, the best messenger in the gang.

"Do you like it, _bella?" _he whispered, the word sounding sickeningly sweet. He could see it, the guilt in her eyes, buried deep beneath the layers of pain and terror. That was what her husband called her- bella. Beautiful.

"Do you like the feeling of the blade cutting through your skin, fire spreading through your body as I cut you into strips, your muscles twitching and your mind racing, but you can hardly hear it beneath all the _pain?" _Shiro always did this- spoke to his victims. He lusted for the panic and pain in their features, loved watching their denial toward the situation melt away as the pain became too much to bear and their nerves exploded one by one.

Shiro dipped his fingers into the woman's mouth, feeling blood splatter against his digits from the still-twitching severed muscle and the woman's choking breaths. Pulling the woman's tongue from her mouth flooded with blood, the albino sat back on his haunches, sweeping his eyes over the woman as she sobbed and tried begging for him to stop as she was slowly drowned in her own blood.

Shiro would make sure that the woman looked beautiful alright; he'd make her more beautiful than she'd ever been. He'd strip her of the tight leather rags and dress her in flowing crimson. He'd wrap her hair in rosy pink that slowly turned white and grey, and keep her eyes open wide so everyone could see the lovely brown color. He'd place a flower on her chest- a rose, perhaps- something that rivaled her beauty.

Yes, tonight she would live up to her name. Shiro would make her so radiant that her husband would faint with admiration the second he laid eyes on her. The grinning gang member would even be a gentleman and keep her comfortable in her own bed, her lovely dress strewn out around her body.

Shiro chuckled to himself, watching as pale skin was slowly bathed in the woman's true colors, her sobs and attempted screams dying with her.

Peeling off his blood splattered tee, Shiro rolled his shoulders, grin only growing as brown eyes rolled back to view a deadened brain.

He had a lot of work to do.

_Two Hours Later- _

Light footsteps whispered against the metal grate floor, a crimson stained handkerchief fluttering dejectedly to the cold floor as heavy boots were kept light.

He was completely drenched in that woman's blood- that much Shirosaki knew. And he had no problem showing off the fact to the gang members strewn throughout the common room.

He had loved making good on his word for the screams, and had had far too much fun shoving that blood slicked muscle deep within the corpse. He had made sure to get it good and deep inside her, and then had even gone so far as to cut off her fingers one by one, stuffing a few inside her to join the tongue, leaving the others spread over her body as a final nod to her adultery.

Shiro couldn't help it. He threw his head back and cackled at the metal beamed ceiling, the memory of the fatigue fueled murder causing his body to flood with mirth. Using his exhaustion as the fire to his alcohol based gas, Shiro had gone to town on the woman, creating quite the spectacle for her husband to find.

Several fellow Hollows stared openly at the blood-drenched albino, unsettled by the distorted peals, while those who were less brave either peered at him from the corner of their eyes or scuttled along, heads bowed.

After recovering from the sporadic bout of laughter, inverted eyes sparkling with happiness from the recent kill swept around the room, leering maniacally at one chick that had the balls to stare at him openly. She quickly dropped her head and went back to her work.

A satisfied grin tearing across pale features, Shiro stuffed his hands into his pockets and sauntered across the room, opening a set of metal double doors with a push of his combat booted foot.

Stalking into the dimly lit room, Shiro disregarded the burning skull carved into the metal, something most everyone would never dream of doing. It was a sign that had every sane man quaking in his boots, every Hollow bowing in respect, and every Shirosaki Ogihci standing considerably taller with pride.

It was the Hollow insignia. It was a sign of his- ahem- Ichimaru-taichou's gang. Shiro scoffed internally. He did just as much work as the fox did, and he _is _second in command. It was his gang just as much as it was Ichimaru's.

Seeing the sign burned into one of the doors in the large warehouse they had bought meant that the room behind it belonged to one of the heads of the gang. Barging into one of those rooms uninvited would get you a one way ticket to the torture cell.

Going to the cell, even while a member of the gang, altered you beyond repair. Shiro had seen the aftereffects and they were never pretty. The captain had assigned the best man he could get his hands on to the job of torturer, or, as Shiro preferred, professional sadist.

Speaking of the captain… Shiro ran a blue tongue across his thin lips, gliding across the dark hardwood floor. While the main part of their headquarters is more metal and beams, the private rooms for the higher-ups were actually quite expertly decorated.

Despite his gang status and ruthless attitude, Grin Ichimaru was an excellent interior decorator.

"Oi," Shiro called out to the large room, the sound bouncing off the cream colored walls to land on a king sized bed. "Tha bitch is dead." The albino's lilting voice was laced with mirth at the memory, causing him to force back another wave of giggles. That certainly didn't stop a manic grin from pulling at his lips.

Slurping sounds and the distinct noise of bed sheets rubbing against bed sheets reached the albino's ears, drawing his attention to the pile curtain framed pillows on the monstrous bed against the back wall of the room. Golden irises traced the outline of clearly feminine hips and an ass, long legs spread out behind the woman that was quite obviously sucking the half naked captain off.

Fox-like grin plastered on pale features only grew at the news as long fingers pushed the head bobbing over his lap down forcefully. "Mah mah, that was fast, wasn' it, Shirosaki? Ya usually take yer sweet time when dealin' with the ladies."

The albino chuckled, threading long fingers through his snowy locks, gold on black eyes sweeping over the two bodies on the bed, the woman sucking on the gang leader's cock letting out a slight moan at the rough treatment. "Tha husban' came home sooner than expected. But don' worry, I made sure tha job was done real well." The words seemed to laugh with hidden meaning, the obvious implication making the silver haired man on the bed even harder.

Ichimaru-taichou had always loved blood. Maybe the fascination had started the first time he had looked at his enraged self in the mirror to find a twin with near glowing red eyes staring back. Maybe it was the natural urge deep inside him to cut and tear until his victim was drowning in crimson life. Whatever it was, Gin Ichimaru was hooked on the metallic liquid.

Gin chuckled, icy blue eyes revealed as that toothless smirk relaxed slightly. Most found the expression extremely disturbing, but not Shiro. After all, the albino had an equally disturbing grin on his face most of the time. Why would someone else's bother him?

"Excellent work, Shi," Gin purred, pushing the woman's head down once more, forcing her to deep-throat him. "Ya look tired. Get some sleep tanight, yeah?" the captain chuckled, slit eyed smirk reaffixing itself on the thin man's face.

Shiro smirked and bowed slightly, turning on his heel and gliding toward the door, more than ready to take a shower and pass out for the next week or two. He was beyond exhausted. First the week of non-stop meetings, then that _decadent _night with the devastatingly handsome Vastro Lorde, and to top it off, he had to deal with that slut. He was ready to become numb to the world for an undecided amount of time.

"I assume the husband's reaction was to our liking?" The fox's smirk grew, slitted watching as the albino let out a bark of laughter, opening the door to the main room.

"Put a bullet through 'is own head."

Shiro didn't hear the sound of Gin moaning out his release as the metal door slammed shut behind him.

The husband of the woman he had killed had been a tenant of theirs. The Hollows, being a very successful gang, had bought one of the extremely nice apartment buildings in the city. Only gang related people could rent out apartments, and this guy happened to be someone who dealt with some of their drug shipments. He'd started sneaking some out of the shipments for himself, then lied about it to the gang leader's face.

But he hadn't stopped there. After being called out for stealing from the main shipments, the man had gone so far as to point out a primary dock where the gang got their goods to law enforcement. Of course, the gang had quickly pulled a few strings here and there and got the police good and silent, but the crime was still there.

Add that to the fact that his wife was sleeping around with more rival gang leaders than she could count on her fingers and toes and you have cause for a messenger to pay you a visit.

Shiro had been appalled that they had stopped with just the wife. Normally, when someone betrayed the gang this badly, they'd make sure the person really felt it. Once, he had been assigned a job where he was supposed to pick off the man's family members one at a time over the space of a year.

Giggling maniacally at the thought, Shiro pushed open the doors to his chambers. That had been fun, making the man run in circles. It did help that the man had a rather extensive family.

Yawning, Shiro peeled off his clothes and padded into the bathroom, starting the water in the black tiled shower. He had to admit, though. He was far too tired to have accomplished anything more than this job successfully. Not that there was any shame in that. Everyone gets tired after a while. It had just been longer than it should have been since he last got a good night's sleep.

Hot water ran red pigmented rivers down ashen skin, head tipped back and eyes closed with a sigh. It felt amazing, water so hot it had evaporated before it hit the shower floor working over too-tense muscles, svelte limbs arching into the burning touch.

Reaching out, eyes still closed, long pale fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle of Dark Kiss* shower gel. Sure, it was purple and was considered a girl's product, but Shiro had always loved the scent. Not to mention, after hearing the orangette from the club moan about his smell as the ginger slept, Shiro had no intentions to change his product of choice.

At the thought of the berry from the night before, Shiro could feel his blood flow switch to a complete different direction. The orangette- _Ichigo, _that rich voice had purred- had been completely different from anyone he'd ever had the pleasure of fucking before. From his voice to his hair to his endless legs, Shiro could feel himself becoming more and more obsessed with him. Throughout the entire day, the boy had been there, hovering in the back of his mind, driving him just to the brink of abandoning his job and setting out in search of the man with the wild hair.

Opening his eyes, Shiro was greeted with the sight of his quickly awakening member, something he did not have the energy to deal with at the moment.

Hurriedly washing his hair and scrubbing down his body, Shiro nudged his hip against the water control handle, shutting off the flow as he ran a towel through his dripping white locks.

Shirosaki slid open the clear glass door and stepped out, steam as white as his skin billowing out in heated clouds. As much as Shiro had enjoyed the brief but decadent shower, he was more than ready to fall into his bed and konk out for a decade or three.

Scrubbing his hand in a circle against the water stained glass, Shiro peered into the mirror, watching as his face was slowly copied and printed.

Pale features with shocking eyes stared back. But it wasn't what Shiro had expected. It used to be that his reflection was as crazed and maniacal as he was, but this mirror image was different.

The face that stared back at him was sad and tired.

Shiro stared, raking his eyes over dark circles and sharper than normal cheek bones.

Were those his?

Since when did his eyes look so flat?

Did his bones really stick out that much?

_You're a fighter, Shi. We're gonna bring that out in ya, shape ya so yer unstoppable. _Promises left untouched.

Unstoppable, they had claimed.

Unstoppable, he had thought.

But something did stop him. Something that he couldn't fight with fists and feet. It had buried him alive, suffocated him completely. And once he was in deep enough, he gave up. He welcomed the burning, floating embrace the drugs gave him. Wrapped himself in it completely.

_Yer losin yerself, Shi._

I don't care.

_This is the fifth fight. What's goin on, Shiro?_

Nothing. I'm fine.

_This isn' you, Shirosaki. Somethin's up that yer not tellin us. Yer gonna lose us too._

Leave me alone!

Glass rained down on the counter, landing like falling stars in the sink, collecting into a diamond shard sea. Harsh breathing fluttered against the suddenly stale air, trying pointlessly to break through to the other side. Widened gold on black eyes stared down at the shattered form of his fist, shards of his reflection winking at him amidst the blood and broken skin.

Where had that came from? He hadn't thought about those guys in years…

Golden eyes dropped lifelessly to his crimson dripping hand, watching as red tinted life slowly slicked his skin.

It was sickening. The memory of being covered in that woman's blood. The rush he got from slicing skin from bone.

He hated it.

_Hated it._

Shiro stumbled blindly into his room, fire coursing through his veins, making him feel like he was flying a thousand miles an hour. It was addicting and repulsive.

He didn't feel very tired anymore, couldn't feel the aftereffects of his shower. In fact, he couldn't feel much of anything right now.

The glass would stay in his hand as he threw his naked and dripping body onto the silken sheets.

He was gone within seconds, like the falling star he was.

* * *

><p>Rukia POV<p>

"Anika, feet off the table!"

Golden eyes peered out from behind pink dyed bangs, a smirk pulling at full lips. "Fuck off, Princess."

Rukia glared at the girl, sweeping over combat boots and white washed skinnies, a torn up black tee strewn crookedly across tanned shoulders, pink, brown, and blond hair piled atop angular features.

Anika, or as some people called her, Rat, was a real oddball, even for their standards. She wasn't from around here- Africa, the girl had said once, and her accent backed the claim.

Rukia sighed, small hands rising to rest angrily on her hips. It was annoying when normal people refused to listen to her, but it was downright infuriating when this, this _rodent,_ ignored her orders. She was higher up in the gang than her, so it was practically law for her to obey her.

"Listen here, peasant," Rukia spat, jabbing a finger at the taller girl that sat sprawled across the silk covered couch in the entryway.

Anika's smirk turned into a sneer at the smaller girl's insult.

"You're below me, so you listen to me. I'm getting sick and tired of you blatantly disobeying me, so before I do something we'll both re-"

"My my, _someone's _on their period, aren't they?" Anika drawled, peeling long legs off of the couch and sauntering exaggeratedly over to Rukia, patting the raven haired woman's head, a condescending smirk fixed on exotic features.

"Listen, Princess. Once you get that stick outta your ass and try loosening tha fuck up, then maybe I'll start respecting you. But until then, miss I-haven't-been-laid-in-five-years, you're still gonna be the little bitch that, frankly, I don't take orders from." Golden eyes sparkled playfully, lips pulled into a syrupy sweet smile. "Okay?" A syrupy sweet smile with a sour lip stain.

Rukia glared venomously at the girl four years her junior, wishing for the umpteenth time that she was taller. Maybe then she would earn some more respect around here, other than that a person of her position usually obtains.

Opening her mouth to launch into a rant about being condescending toward her superiors, Rukia was cut off once more as the woman turned on her heel and sauntered out of the room, buckled combat boots jingling and thudding with each step.

Angry blush staining pale cheeks, Rukia crossed her arms tightly over her flatter-than-most chest, glaring at the retreating head of dyed hair. She had never liked her higher-than-thou attitude, that annoying smirk that was constantly plastered across tanned features, and above all the patronizing attitude that she seemed to constantly have around her.

Seething, Rukia turned and stalked down the hall at the front of the massive entryway, sandals slapping angrily against the marble floor. The violet eyed girl was beyond ready to drop into bed, but the daily jobs had sprung up once more, leaving her with another few hours of pushing back exhaustion. The day had started off bad and had only gotten worse.

First she had had to work overtime because the high and mighty Vastro Lorde with obnoxious, obviously dyed hair had been pulled into the back room for hours on end. Then some idiot had spilled his beer all over her, forcing her to miss the rest of her free hour to change into dry clothes. Top it all off with personally being summoned to the buchou*'s office and that _Rat _talking down to her yet again and you have a thoroughly upset Rukia Kuchiki.

Glaring at the sparking floor as she stormed toward the heavy double doors at the end of the hall, Rukia once more contemplated quitting her job. It wasn't like she needed it- she had the entirety of the gang's finances at her fingertips. She could quit right now and never get another job for the rest of her life and she'd be more than cared for.

A sigh slid from her lips, falling broken and forgotten on the floor. She couldn't quit though. It was a direct order from the boss, a way to keep tabs on the other gangs. She couldn't quit until she was no longer required to remain.

"Come in." The words were muffled slightly through the heavy metal doors, but their power easily carried through. Rukia looked up from her feet, almost startled that she was already at the door. She must have been too angry and deep in thoughts of quitting that she had zoned out, not realizing that she had stopped outside of the buchou's doors until their powerful voice woke her from her revere.

"Y-yes, Buchou," Rukia quickly replied, the anger in her body quickly melting into nausea and nervousness. The buchou had always made her uncomfortable. But the boss had called on her personally- well, as personal as a butler's servant could be.

Coaching her face into a look of calmness and respect, Rukia placed a small hand on the center of the door and pushed it open, stepping onto the plush carpet.

"And the Hollows?"

Rukia fidgeted slightly, tugging awkwardly at the hem of her knee-length white cotton dress. The second she had sat down, the buchou had gotten straight to business, hands folded and eyes piercing into her. It was a little unnerving, how much the buchou seemed to see.

After getting the basics out of the way- finances, drugs, recruits and the likes- the boss had breached the subject of the head gangs in the area. They had their fingers in everything, their eyes on everyone. Rukia, being in her higher-than-most position, was one of the heads of the rival subject.

"U-uhm, our sources have nothing to report." A wince flashed across the girl's features at the heavy silence in the room as the buchou stared at her.

"Rukia," the buchou began after another moment of tense silence. "There's something you're not telling me." The sound of a chair gliding back, wood scraping softly against the silk rug. "You know-" footsteps "-how much I _hate it _when information is kept from me."

Every single muscle in Rukia's body snapped to attention when long fingers brushed against her cotton covered shoulder, tracing delicately- almost caringly- over the rise of her shoulder. "You haven't mentioned your job. Has anything happened there?"

Rukia swallowed hard at the boss's touch, relaxing only slightly when they moved back toward their desk. "N-nothing really." Thin brows pulled together slightly as a thin lip slipped between Rukia's teeth. "Though the Vastro Lorde did spend an abnormal amount of time in the VIP room, not that that really means anything…"

Footsteps nearing the buchou's desk stopped, another pregnant silence settling over the pair as the buchou mulled over that little fact in his head.

"Who is it?"

"A no one." Rukia let out a soft laugh. "He's got super annoying hair and is constantly scowling when he thinks no one's looking. Not to mention he doesn't talk to anyone like ever," Rukia huffed, blowing an annoying strand of hair out of her face. "Probably thinks that he's better than ev-"

"What. Is. His. Name?" the buchou practically growled out, stance tense.

"K-Kurosaki Ichigo," Rukia said quickly, wincing at the warning in the boss's voice.

"Any known gang affiliation?"

"Not that I kno-"

"Any known gang affiliation?" the buchou stated once more, voice slow and purposeful. A warning. Rukia had upset the boss once already; another time would not go over well for her.

So Rukia did the smart thing. She snapped her mouth shut and bowed her head, staring at her feet. "No, Buchou."

"And was anyone important in the club missing at the time of this… Ichigo Kurosaki's… disappearing act?"

"No one, save Shirosaki Ogihci, Buchou."

The boss smiled, nothing more than a slight twitch of the lips. But it was more than was usually shown.

"Keep an eye on the boy." Their voice was smooth and soft, though Rukia knew better. The buchou was never like this, and when they were, it was always because they were obscenely happy. Nothing good ever came of the buchou being happy.

"You are to watch him closely- watch his arrival times, his departure times, and what he does at work. Also, get into his file. I want every piece of information you can get on the boy. And I want it within the week."

Rukia stared at the buchou. "B-but, why is Kurosaki important? He's beyond inconsequential, even if he's a Vastro L-"

"You are dismissed." It rang clear and loud, heavy with finality. There was no arguing with the buchou's word.

"Y-yes, Buchou!" Rukia stuttered, scrambling to her feet and bowing so low that she almost tipped over. Hands folded in front of her just below her knees, the petite woman took practiced steps backwards, counting each one until the bottom of the door came into view.

Straightening and quickly pushing her way out of the room, Rukia turned on her heel and all but ran down the hall toward the main room. She had always hated meetings with the buchou. They always put her on edge.

The second she made it to her room she slammed the door behind her, kicking off her sandals and taking a running leap into the queen bed covered in fluffy sheets. She may be in a gang but she was still a girl. A comfortable bed was a must for her.

It had been a _very _long day, and the meeting with the buchou had drained her even more. The rest of her duties could wait. It wasn't like the entire gang would fall if she wasn't there every second of the day. She was allowed a few hours of sleep.

As tired as she got, she never once regretted joining the Arrancars.

* * *

><p><strong>*Dark Kiss shower gel- Okay, the other day, pureberry and I were at a Bath &amp; Body Works and we found this one scent. The second I smelt it, I fell in love, namely because this is what I imagine Shiro to smell like. It's like a deep floral smell that is far from overpowering but has a very sensual scent. It just screams Shiro to me. If you haven't smelt it before, have your butler drive you to the nearest B&amp;BW and buy the entire collection. I <strong>_**love **_**it. **

***buchou- boss**

***hides* Yes, Rukia **_**is **_**a 'bag guy' in this story. I beg all of you Rukia lovers- **_**please do not leave me because of this fact! **_**I admit, I'm not a fan of Rukia, it's just the way I am. Maybe it's because I'm jealous of her getting to be so close to Ichigo ((*seethes*)), maybe it's because I don't like her in general- the world may never know. I'm just not a fan of this particular midget. But I swear to you, I will make her as bad ass as possible, just for you. **

**And yes, there is an OC in here- a character based off of a sister of mine who has helped me an infinite amount with this story. Anika is based off of the amazing purestrawberryinsanity. Love her to the moon and back. **

**I have a question for y'all, my lovely lovely readers~ if murder were not illegal and you found out the person you were married to was a serial adulterer, how would you get your revenge? And none of that **_**"I love them too much to hurt them. We'd sit down and talk it out."**_** fluffy-ass shit. I want evil schemes here people.**

**Reviews pay for my plane ticket back home so I can upload the next chapter faster, so review my dearies! Wow, I sounded like an 80 year old woman just then. 'Dearies'… *shudders* **

**Alright! I'll shut up now because I'm positive that you're all tired of hearing me ramble on and on and on and on and on and yeah. I'll see you all in two and a half weeks. Oh! Almost forgot~ We **_**will **_**have wifi at the hotel ((I know right, my sister and I were terrified that we wouldn't)) so feel free to PM me, whatever to talk to me and listen all about my –hopefully- turtle filled adventures. I love you all and from the bottom of my heart, I wish you a very merry Christm-*shotsohard***

**Ja ne~**


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